


Goddess Bless the Queen

by sigmalied



Series: GBTQ Trilogy [2]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/F, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-09-07 01:59:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 38
Words: 439,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8778718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sigmalied/pseuds/sigmalied
Summary: A series of ominous incidents brings Councilor Tevos and Aria T'Loak back into collaboration. Old attractions resurface as they work to preserve their seats of power in the galaxy. Meanwhile, Liselle braves the cruelty of the underworld to help defend her mother's syndicate against an enigmatic threat. She uncovers Omega's darkest secrets—and many of Aria's as well.





	1. Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> GBTQ has come to AO3!
> 
> Description: This is essentially a continuation of its prequel Confidentiality, however it can stand on its own as almost every major event from Confidentiality will be briefly recapped. Aside from being about Tevos and Aria's affair amid the problems arising in their respective homes, this is also a coming-of-age story for Liselle. This time around the story's going to be a bit darker and very much unlike its prequel. Occasionally a chapter will begin with a news article, acting as a mode of exposition in that they give auxiliary information about the story's current events. Also, this fic will be much more fleshed out in terms of the universe's details, supplied by headcanons. All of which will be very reasonable/realistic and not cause any conflicts with existing lore. This is going to be a long ride but I'm excited to see this project in completion.
> 
> Rating: The E rating is due to scenes of intense violence, gore, sex, and drug mention/use. Please proceed with these things in mind.

 

_Year 2081 CE_

  _._

_Athame was but a name only invoked when there were no others  
to hear the pleas of subjects who beseeched her  
"Bless and keep our vainglorious Queen  
_ _as she faces a grievous turn of fate."_

_But what blessings could a dead deity spare a Queen; the mighty, the wealthy, the avaricious,  
who rejects the need for divine favor to conquer and rule like the gods themselves?_

.

**THE TAYSERI GAZETTE — "Lucen's Third Coming"**

A recent resurgence of the illegal substance Alunigen B2 [more commonly known by its street name 'Lucen Dust'] in all five Wards of the Citadel has C-Sec officials scratching their heads over where—and by whom—the drug is being smuggled and distributed. First documented approximately eighty years ago as a crude stimulant specifically appealing to asari users, Alunigen B2 was immediately discovered to have severely harmful side effects such as gradual loss of biotic control and deterioration of fertility. Along with its first ban, Council-funded rehabilitation clinics opened their doors to Alunigen B2 users to aid them in restoring their health and productivity.

Thirty years later Lucen Dust flooded Council space again, originating from labs presumably established on Omega, whose de facto leadership funded and managed distribution into the Attican Traverse, and from there, into Council territory. This permutation of Alunigen B2 was a significant departure from its previous crudeness, but when multiple non-asari deaths were linked to overdoses [as non-asari races are far more susceptible to substances infused with high concentrations of element zero], law enforcement ramped up their efforts to clean up the Wards and identify the source. After weeks of tense political deliberation and the narrow avoidance of a skirmish between Council space and the Terminus Systems, an agreement and peace treaty were conceived between Asari High Command and Omega representative Aria T'Loak to cease all smuggling operations and hostilities.

The third coming of the 'Lucen Dust' is currently nebulous in origin. As one anonymous asari informant who helped lead C-Sec to an arrest says, "It's a phantom drug. It comes and goes. Shows up quietly one day, then disappears in the same way once C-Sec has figured out where it's coming from. I've lived through all three of its incarnations. Never tried it until this time. But even as good as this incarnation may be, it's no substitute for a meld. Melds cost less, too. Made me realize that I was better off telling C-Sec and keeping myself clean. I'm lucky I was able to stop myself—most people aren't so lucky. We're not even sure how dangerous the Lucen Dust is this time around."

C-Sec has made this press release asking anyone with information, whether in individual dealer names or sightings of the drug in any form, to please contact them. Rewards for tipping successful arrests are posted on their extranet site.

[EXTRANET LINKS: C-SEC HOMEPAGE, C-SEC TIP LINE, ANONYMOUS TIP LINE EXTENSION]

"The [Alunigen B2] is impressively refined," says C-Sec detective Jonum Adonis. "We're almost certain it's coming from somewhere beyond Council space. A lab capable of mass producing a drug with such unvarying quality would not be able to last under the radar for long on our worlds. It must be coming from a region where regulations and laws are incredibly lax, or altogether nonexistent. Be it the Traverse, the Terminus Systems, or even from somewhere nearby, we're quite confident that the origin will be found, followed by either a diplomatic confrontation, or a forceful one. Whichever the circumstances warrant."

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

There was a great commotion of chatter rising up into the heights of the main Council Chamber, bouncing off the wide glass panes, and echoing back around the evening-hued interior. People were bustling about as per usual. All congregating, discussing, and conducting all actions with the hurried speech and long strides found in those who still had much left to do before the day's end, and perhaps without adequate time to do it. Not even the asari councilor was immune to the contagious rush of bodies and sound; she headed a small flock of assistants as they cut a path across the chamber toward their destination, immersed in concise discourse.

"Spectre Neora's report says the Lucen Dust is coming from Omega," said an aide, Savina, struggling to read from a datapad while matching her superior's haste and avoiding collisions with other bodies. "But we don't have so much as a potential distributor name. We only have records of a few ships with the cargo passing through the local relay, all registry from Omega. But that's still insufficient evidence to say the Lucen Dust is being funded and produced there."

"Although it isn't sufficient evidence to press formal charges," Councilor Tevos replied as a small group of hanar diplomats respectfully parted in their wake, "it does justify the asking of questions. We will see what Aria T'Loak has to say, or simply what she may know about this. And she will know _something."_

"I just answered a call from Irissa," said Eleni, with one finger pressed to her earpiece. "She's asking you to stop silencing your incoming calls, and to say 'hello' to Aria T'Loak for her. There was a sarcastic inflection."

"Of course," Tevos said, managing to respond with an iota of wry amusement. She received a datapad from an assistant whom she previously requested to bring up records of all the various ships recently stopped within Citadel space for drug possession.

Eleni continued relaying Irissa's call while the councilor skimmed the records. "Irissa says she hopes Aria's guilty, and... she says Spectre Tela Vasir has just checked in, and to check your private inbox. Spectre Vasir has likely sent in her report by now."

Tevos passed the datapad back to the assistant before accessing her omni-tool, where she selected and opened the most recent document appearing in her inbox. As the group reached the halls lining the chamber's side, a door unlocked upon their approach, rolled open, and permitted their entry. Tevos scanned the report, absorbing as much information as possible during that brief period of survey. When she was finished, she spoke grimly, "She's reporting Omega's involvement as well."

"I'm not surprised," said Savina. "All the trouble T'Loak caused years ago? People don't just stop that sort of thing once they've started. People don't change their core natures, and people like Aria T'Loak couldn't even be bothered to _try_. She's probably back for revenge, just as we feared."

"If she is back for revenge, then I have failed," Tevos said bleakly enough to subject them to uniform silence. Her mind was backpedaling to the past, to the treaty she and Aria toiled to create. Had it been all for naught, as the other councilors at the time warned her? She despaired to think that her first major act of galactic diplomacy was destined for ruin. It had endured a half-century without major incident, so why would Aria let it crumble now? How could it possibly benefit her? Any gains Aria could make from another encroachment into Citadel territory would be horrifically exiguous if not nonexistent. Rather, it would only spell her destruction, as it nearly had fifty years ago.

_Fifty years_ , Tevos thought again, humbly marveling at the passage of time. Fifty years in the past not only marked their treaty's inception, but also the last time Tevos had encountered Aria in the flesh. It was an understatement to say that she had burned a permanent scar in her memory—a solemn reminder of just what reckless abandonment of good judgment lied within her potential, the powerful influence that perverse curiosity could potentially hold over her, and how easy it was to slip into relations which could quickly lead her career to a messy, tragic end. She kept her memories of Aria sealed away in the furthest reaches of her head where no one would ever see them, left to ferment into a vague daydream replayed in her mind so many times that its realism had begun to distort. To dally with Aria T'Loak, even very briefly... had it even happened in truth, or had Tevos fallen victim to an ailment of sense and fabricated it all?

It had been too long for it to matter anymore. Whatever happened between them had eroded away with distance and time. Only a ghost remained, an intangible memory doomed to complete deterioration. It was her _responsibility_ to let her fascination decay, to allow it to warp into an abstract vestige of something that _might_ have actually been, and nothing more. She then dismissed her thoughts, finding them unwise to carry with her into an extremely important conversation with the de facto Queen in mind.

When the councilor and her company reached the comm room, they awaited her directive.

"You may all go ahead and return," she said. "Except Eleni, if I may keep you a while longer."

"Of course, Madam Councilor. I'll wait right outside."

After the other assistants had departed, Tevos entered the comm room, activated the module, and placed a call to span a tremendous amount of emptiness dappled by stars, relaying across the countless buoys and finally reaching the perilous fortress of Omega. She waited a few minutes for her call to be answered, thinking on how she hadn't spoken with Aria for a quite a while. For a few years now, in fact, as there had been little reason to speak to her. Aria had _mostly_ honored the agreements of their treaty up until the present, and so Tevos rarely had anything to say to her—only when unfortunate errors or incidents occurred did the councilor contact her, or vice versa in a few unusual cases, but every verbal exchange had been thoroughly stripped of personal investments and rendered cold and empty. Curiously, that had brought Tevos relief.

At last her call was answered, and a familiar figure's hologram came into view. A spectral, ungraspable representation; a body of light. Aria was seated, arms lain across the back of a couch with a leg crossed over the other, while bearing an expression of suspicion and mild vexation in her shimmering features.

" _Hello, Tevos,"_ she said. _"To what do I owe this pleasure?"_

Her cryptic sarcasm had been preserved flawlessly over the years, causing Tevos to suddenly remember why they avoided correspondence like a disease. "The Citadel has its eyes upon Omega once more," she replied, wasting no time on pleasantries. "Alunigen B2 has found our wards again, and the majority of evidence accumulated over the past month points in your direction. I'm calling you to descry why this is so."

Aria gave a small tilt of her head, processing what seemed to be the prelude to an accusation. _"It's not coming from me,"_ she answered nonchalantly, shifting her position to a more comfortable one _. "And even if it was, why would I confess? You just might have made the mistake of revealing your knowledge of my supposed operation, which would inspire even_ more _discretion on my part to keep eluding you."_

"The evidence is damning, Aria," said Tevos. "No amount of improved discretion could conceal you from the allegations for long. Instead of a mistake I might have made, you'd be better off to perceive it as a friendly warning of what may come if you are formally charged. Or does the possibility of embargoes, sanctions, and further censure by High Command not concern you?"

Aria paused to deliberate in silence with herself, nodding a few times to convey her understanding of the councilor's threat. _"You know, you never seem to contact me unless you suspect me of doing something wrong. Over time it's conditioned me into automatically cringing and dreading to see your ID pop up."_

"If that's true, then it's reciprocated. You've only contacted me when the Citadel was doing something which made it difficult for your illicit activities to persist, or in an attempt to manipulate me into giving you something you wanted. Usually things well outside my ethical customs."

The hologram's frown nearly vanished. _"Disregarding what you think I'm doing wrong now, I'll have you know that on Omega, I'm virtually omnipotent,"_ Aria said, lifting her hands from the couch's back in illustration before resting them again. _"I know what comes in and what goes out on my station. No one could export a substance like that—especially in mass quantities—without my knowledge. I can guarantee you that. So there's only two possible realities at this point: either I'm lying to you, or your intel is wrong and it's not coming from Omega. You can pick your favorite."_

"Or maybe _your_ intel is wrong," Tevos suggested. "Aria, we've stopped ships coming in from Omega. My Spectres have explicitly confirmed that in their official reports. Surely you know something about _—_ "

" _Yeah, get me some elasa, on the rocks. No, nothing else."_

"Who are you talking to?" Tevos asked her, watching Aria speak toward her left. "I thought I specifically flagged this call as needing privacy. No one else should be hearing this, Aria."

" _Calm down, Councilor. If you want to keep talking about this I'm going to need a drink to get me through it."_

Tevos was visibly displeased. Those who knew the asari councilor well understood that whatever semblance of emotion she let manifest should be doubled, or even tripled, to discern what she actually felt.

They exchanged a stare for quite a while, filled with tenuous layers of silent adversity. At one point, Aria diverted her gaze to her left, reached out, and brought her arm back with a glass in hand. She sipped it, expended some time to gently swirl the ice around, and took another drink.

While Tevos observed with a frown on her lips, she realized that she still did not trust Aria's words. The Council's Spectres were skilled, experienced, elite—the very _best_ of what their races had to offer. They could not _all_ have made the same mistake, could they? The odds of that happening were extraordinarily slim, especially since they had worked independently of one another. On the other hand... the odds of Aria fibbing were by far more reasonable.

"You know I can't trust you," the councilor said, revealing her doubts. "Not over my Spectres. You know that."

" _Yes, I know. And I don't care,"_ Aria said with a gentleness that exuded underlying hostility. She set her drink aside and resumed. _"Listen, Councilor. I don't care_ _about your drug problem. It's not coming from Omega, and if you still think it is, you should seriously consider firing your incompetent Spectres. Either that's the case… or the drug producers and distributors are feeding those idiots false information to frame Omega."_ Aria withdrew into a brief state of pensiveness. _"I think that's what's going on. Omega is the first suspect of this operation, and by shifting the blame to me, they can continue while you're distracted. They're obviously taking great measures to hide themselves. You just need to try harder to find them."_

"But would it not be in your interest to help me find the source?" the councilor inquired. "You have great knowledge of Terminus factions, people, and events. Would it not ultimately benefit you to shift the Citadel's gaze from Omega to the real culprits?"

" _Why should I help you? I don't regulate trade. I don't tell people what they can and can't sell. Actually, your culprits are probably bringing money into the Terminus Systems. Above all other things, I am a businesswoman and I have every incentive to allow them to continue without intervention."_

Tevos stiffened. "Aria, we are still under treaty. You _cannot_ enable this. I remind you again that Asari High Command remains ever-watchful of your movements and if they learn of your support, you will suffer their wrath."

_"Still trying to scare me into cooperation? Tevos... this is a new era."_ A wicked smirk began to form on Aria's lips as she reached for her drink. _"I'm not afraid of High Command. There's not enough real evidence for them to take a risk like that, and even if they were stupid enough to try, on Omega I remain untouchable. I'm the CEO. I'm the overseeing_ deity _, the master of armies, fleets, and legions of agents. Businessmen and politicians from across the galaxy are in my pocket. Governments fear me, respect me. You see, Tevos..."_ She brought her drink to her lips, downing what remained and setting the glass aside again. _"Over the years, our treaty has gradually become nothing more than my polite and magnanimous decision to not cause you trouble."_

Tevos's lips pressed together into a thin line, affording her no other reaction. Aria assumed a preeminent posture, commanding and absolutely blooming with arrogance and certainty. The fires of her pride that had once violently burned now achieved a state of interminable complacency. She was confident. Power accrued over time elevated her, raising her up to Omega's summit where she lounged like, as she said, a deity. She was consumed by herself. Utterly lost to the delirium, the oxygen-deprived heights of highest ascendancy. And that greatly troubled Tevos.

Aria had always been egotistical and conceited, but she had never reached the point where genuine dismissal of Asari High Command, coupled with Citadel opposition, became a product of that arrogance. She was simply so _swept up_ in the idea of herself and her glorious empire that she could no longer see the danger portentously forming on her doorstep. Did she truly believe all that she said, that trouble would not reach her if their treaty was broken as a result of this mess? Tevos remained incredulous.

"We will continue our investigation," Tevos said at last, keeping the perturbation of her tone to a minimum. "We will find more leads, gather evidence, and cover multiple systems. We will bring resolution to this problem in due time, and if you are at the heart of this, we will eventually discover that. Troubling times may find you, Aria. You are far from invulnerable. Never let that fact slip your mind."

Aria scoffed. _"Thanks for the reality check, Councilor, but you need it more than I do. Those Spectres of yours aren't infallible. You shouldn't rely on them too much."_

The assemblage of light vanished, leaving Tevos alone once again. She squeezed the bridge of her nose between her index finger and thumb, lingering where she stood for a long moment before turning to the door. A request for STG aid along with the Spectres already tasked with the investigation was rapidly becoming more and more probable. When she emerged back into the hall, Eleni was awaiting her.

"What happened, Councilor?"

They began walking down the hall before Tevos answered. She attempted to piece together a pithy yet accurate summary. "Aria T'Loak denied the allegations," she decided to say. "And she claims to know nothing about the origins. I'll make a report in an hour or so. What's next on today's agenda?"

Her secretary accessed a digital planner. "Well, ma'am, this might be a good opportunity to discuss your attire for the turian councilor's inauguration in a few days. You've been putting it off for a while and we're running out of time for that."

Tevos gave her a small smile as they reached the central chamber. The droning voices engulfed them once more. "Only because I've been incredibly busy, Eleni. Surely you won't accuse me of procrastination."

"Oh no, of course not," she said, returning the smile. She then handed Tevos a datapad. "Anyway, I've already contacted the appropriate consultants, and they've agreed on this list of designers. Both highly recommended the asari cuts of Victa Jansius's recent collection—this dress in specificity." Eleni tapped the screen, prompting an image of a black dress with a wide V-shaped collar, bordered by dark, iridescent green material that appeared again from the slopes of the waist, extending from the sides and down to sleek, parallel lines of turian aesthetic. "Very suiting for the occasion. It's my personal favorite as well. You'd look quite elegant in it."

"It's fetching," Tevos agreed. "What other dresses have they recommended?"

As they traveled to an elevator, Eleni continued to discuss the councilor's attire options in detail with her, reading comments from the consultants, highlighting the social and cultural implications associated with each dress, and sharing her own opinions whenever requested.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Within a haze of crimson light and wafting smoke from cigarettes, the assembly of those summoned to Aria's briefing gathered around their boss, listening to every word with undivided attention. They were some of Aria's best: high-ranking officers and agents with unwavering loyalty and aptitude, information brokers who spent most of their waking hours submerged in vast networks of intelligence, and hacking experts capable of stealing whatever secrets their broker allies could not buy or extort. Drinks and datapads littered the table space they sat around. Afterlife's colors and light emanating from the tall hologram column glistened in many alert eyes, their owners of varying races and varying goals, yet united under the singular purpose of carrying out Aria T'Loak's will.

Aria sat forward, influencing her operatives to do the same. "There's a syndicate somewhere out there smuggling Lucen Dust. Some of it has come to Omega. None has left it. Yet the Citadel has records that say otherwise. I want to know _why,_ because they're harassing me, demanding to know why I'm supposedly involved, and whether I know anything about this. And I _will_ know about this, thanks to all of you. Information _is_ power and wealth; and not only do I want to know something the Council doesn't, but I also have a point to prove to the asari councilor. The fact that her Spectres are incompetent _morons_. And we all know this is true. We all know that when something needs to be done, Omega's finest can see to it faster and more thoroughly than anyone else in the galaxy."

A few ambitious nods arose.

"I want you all to find these smugglers," Aria continued. "I want you to do whatever it takes to wrestle the information out of whoever's keeping it a secret. I have thousands of credits awaiting you all, and every one of you will receive pay regardless of who delivers the accurate intel. That way you don't have to slit each other's throats over the reward. Just get me the intel. Now go, all of you. Get started."

The congregation obediently dispersed, armed with their skills and orders. Aria's usual guards returned to their posts in the lounge after they left. She motioned to one, beckoning him closer to hear what she had to tell him.

"Send someone to get more drinks for the patrons in the lower lounge. And ask them if they want anything to eat," she told the turian, who nodded. "Bring the dancers back in, too."

The guard left, and her demands were swiftly met. Another round of complementary drinks were delivered to the shareholders, businessmen, and politicians hailing from the Traverse, all finding merriment in the hospitality and amenities supplied by Aria T'Loak, reinforcing not only their opinion of her, but also their inclination to remain acting in her favor. When the dancers arrived and stepped into their normal positions, Aria reclined into the sofa, assessing her living situation and basking in the sheer wealth, assets, connections, and influence she had hoarded over the last century.

What did the councilor think of it, she wondered? Was she growing apprehensive of Omega's silhouette looming on the horizon, casting a larger shadow than ever before? Was she impressed by the exponential growth Aria had galvanized?

During her musings, Aria abruptly realized that even after half a century, Councilor Tevos's judgement continued to matter to her. She fought back a scowl, resenting the intense compulsion she felt to prove her superiority to someone whose opinion shouldn't have had any bearing on her self-satisfaction. But Aria wanted to be seen as a legitimate wielder of power. She wanted Tevos to _bend_ like all the others did; lapping up her bribes, tailoring policy to her advantage, and praising her image.

But she never did. So they struggled against one another through an old feud, a dynamic volley of superiority whose upper-hand seemed to shift on daily intervals. Their contest had only irreversibly transformed over time. It was now a question of whom, given that they were removed from each other's company and whatever they could gain from it, would grow to be the better. They had parted in the councilor's office with the bitter taste of another war's dawn in their mouths. A silent war waged over an incredible sea of stars, only inflicting injury through the medium of news broadcasts spotlighting their triumphs and failures, and through surreptitious gloats hidden behind the political veil over their rare, sporadic conversations. It was another war of pride, slightly altered for the changing circumstances, but identical in motivation.

And now, being brought together to review the results of their battles had only revealed that Tevos still believed to have copious authority over her. Neglecting to accept Aria's obvious formidability was inexcusable.

Tevos's threats were inconsequential, for Aria did not fear Asari High Command, nor even the Citadel. Omega had become just as mighty as either of them.

The station and its self-proclaimed leader were bursting with prosperity. Aria had very recently celebrated her first centennial of uninterrupted rule, immersing the many districts under her control with something reminiscent of a holiday's joviality. And Afterlife, the focal point of all her territory, hadn't seen a party so impressive, so undeniably significant and symbolic of Omega's acceptance of a new successful ruling power, in hundreds and hundreds of years. Every floor had been in an uproar—bleeding alcohol, the progenitor of intoxicated brawls, the muse of drug-induced fervor, and the catalyst for blaring dance floors whose occupants moved like many cells within the body of that colossal nightclub—guided by the environment, the heavy reverberations in their chests from the bass, the lights, and the warm proximity of countless others. All in harmony, more or less, to celebrate the imperishability of their Queen, and to delight in the decadent gifts she bestowed them. The whole galaxy had seemed to watch and marvel, whether in person or while enviously viewing the innumerable vids virally appearing on the extranet.

How had Tevos perceived that night? Had she been watching too? Had one of her little secretaries informed her of what festivities celebrating Omega's prosperity and lawless rapture took place as they spoke? Had she tapped her fingers nervously on her desk while watching the plethora of fists raising in Aria's honor, fists very capable of taking up arms in their Queen's name?

Aria had been their idol, the very center of the universe during those hours. There was no question of it. She was the supreme warlord who had set out, conquered, and returned to spill forth her acquired riches to whomever swore to her their undying allegiance.

That night put her in a blissful illusion where _all_ of Omega was under her control. It was not, of course. The station was massive, athwart in dark corners for subversive factions to hide and oppose her from. She doubted if Omega had _ever_ been united under a single authority, but that fantastic dream was her prime ambition. She systematically smoked the dissidents out of their holes and laid violent and successful sieges to areas resisting her control. With the passage of every year, it seemed, that goal steadily drew closer.

It was imminent. Her complete dominion was absolutely _imminent_ , she was convinced—and there would undoubtedly be another party reserved for that day.

A chime in her earpiece lifted her mind from the wells of thought. She answered it, identifying the caller as her right-hand lieutenant. "What is it, Aetius?"

The turian's flanging voice reached her. _"Aria, you might want to come down a few levels. To the batarian hell. There's been an incident _—_ just a few minutes ago, apparently—and I think you'd want to see this."_

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

When Aria stepped out from the elevator and into the deep, eerie blue light bathing the floor of her destination, the ghoulish sea of patrons parted in her wake, many of whom appeared flustered, or even frightened for a reason Aria was presently ignorant of. As she walked, the floor's music persisted, unfazed by whatever unfortunate event had just occurred beneath its thick, heavy, nearly palpable presence; undulations of a well-conducted din, brimming with spirit and power—the haunting timbre of batarian string instruments, taut drums, the clamor of zills raining into the soundscape, all seamlessly fusing into the computer-generated, extravagantly buzzing layers.

As she approached the bar at the back of the floor, the shifting blue light gleamed in a faultless varnish over the main attraction: behind the crescent-shaped bar, a huge golden statue depicting the batarian deity Anoragot rose on high, to the very ceiling, towering over the many bodies, belittling them beneath his gargantuan dimensions. And he was unnervingly eyeless. Yawning, blackened voids were in the place of his four sockets, staring into nothingness. He was the batarian god of death, lord of their underworld. It was he who devoured the pathetic deceased in blindness, only able to sense the nature of their souls, which were indistinguishable from those of his true meal—slaves and lesser species.

Waiting at the bar was Aria's lieutenant, standing with three other armed guards who kept people out of the immediate area. She reached him and spoke closely to his green-marked face so her voice would carry over the music. "What do we have?"

Aetius Visiom wordlessly pointed upward at the massive statue, drawing Aria's eyes in the indicated direction. At first, she saw nothing amiss; and then, her gaze locked on a single, gruesome anomaly. In one of Anoragot's outstretched hands, representing his hunger for lowly departed souls, lied the motionless body of a batarian man.

"We're waiting until you give the all-clear to move him," said Aetius. "Only because that's Olat Dar'nerah."

Aria frowned, her pallid eyes still fixated on the dead man. She folded her arms. Olat Dar'nerah, the son of Ralot Dar'nerah, had been an active member of her administration for years now, not only proving to be just as mentally and physically formidable as his father had been, but also acting as a liaison between Aria and Ralot's pirate fleet, which Olat had inherited some few decades previously. Her frown deepened as the loss of a valuable ally caustically ate at her mind, rapidly warping her distress into rage toward whoever had the gall to kill him. "What happened?" she asked Aetius.

"I had a guy go up there and check him when we got here," said the lieutenant. "Cause of death was a gunshot wound to the back of the head. Point-blank, execution style. Small rounds so they didn't damage anything but the brain. And there's another thing… His eyes were gouged out. Right out of the skull. Looks like it was done with proper surgical tools rather than a cheap job with a knife. Not sure if it happened post-mortem or not, but I'd hope so for the bastard's sake."

"Why is he up there?" she said, gesturing with her head. "Who put him there?"

"Well, we asked about that. Asked the patrons what they saw. Everyone who saw something says that he _climbed_ up there on his own and lied down. People thought he was just drunk. Some laughed at him, even. When one of the bartenders went over to check him, they found him dead as he is."

Despite the grim circumstances, Aria almost laughed at the recount. "And you expect me to believe that? I'm not about to put my faith in eyewitness testimony. It's dark in here, someone was murdered, and in a way that resonated with the superstitions of the majority on this floor. That already discredits most of what any of them have to say. No, I don't believe a single word of it. Let's just find the idiot who did this and take care of them." She paused, looking up at the body once more, shaking her head contemptuously. Revenge _would_ be had. "Someone get him down from there. Get a thorough autopsy done."

"What about a proper burial?" a batarian guard bravely inquired. "He's a batarian and someone's put out his eyes! The soul _has_ to leave through the eyes or it's condemned to rot and be devoured by Anoragot. We have a responsibility to help him or suffer the same fate through negligence."

Aria turned to address him, approaching the man closely enough for him to grow rigid with fear. She gripped his collar, yanking him in her direction. "Tell me, at this moment, who do you fear more? Anoragot, or me? While he may or may not exist, _I_ _do_. You know that for sure. And you _know_ what I'll do to you if you defy my orders."

He nodded multiple times in quick succession.

"So do as I say," said Aria. "And when you're done, you can do what you need to do for him. Understand?"

"Yes, boss."

"Good," she released him and looked back at Aetius, who had been overseeing a few other guards as they carried the corpse down. "Aetius."

The turian immediately turned his head in her direction.

"Follow me. We're going to view security footage."

She and her lieutenant left the scene behind, walking around the bar to the door marked for employee access only. They entered, emerging into a passage illuminated by the same blue as the rest of the floor, keeping their bodies doused in that purgatorial, cold depth of space. The music was attenuated now, low and thudding through the walls like the steady heartbeat of the nightclub, resonating from deep within. A few workers passed them; a pair of batarians instantly moving to one side, shrinking beneath the Queen's indomitable presence and clinging to the wall as they hurried by. When Aria and Aetius arrived in the dark surveillance room, lit by the many screens projecting live feeds of the current floor and the two above and below, a turian and volus turned away from their monitors to rise and greet her.

"Aria," said the turian. "We had a feeling you'd want to come here. We've got the playback ready." He motioned to the monitor he had been previously seated before.

"So you saw what happened?" Aria asked him while taking the chair. The glow of the monitors washed over her face as she brought her attention to the scenes captured by their electronic eyes. Aetius sat down in the chair beside his boss, pulling it over to get a better view.

"Yes," the turian security guard answered Aria's question. "…And we're still just as confused."

She interpreted his reaction as quite the foreboding one. However she gave it little weight, as she still needed to see for herself what happened. When Aetius pressed a finger to the console, the recording began to play.

"He'll show up in about eight seconds," said the volus, pausing to audibly inhale through his suit's breathing apparatus. He pointed at the floor's main doors. "Right there."

Sure enough, the form of Olat Dar'nerah arrived precisely when and where he was predicted to, passing through the doors and beginning to make his way toward his final resting place. He was a dark form among many, another individual to be lost amidst the organism of conglomerated others dancing and drinking themselves into hours of contentment.

"Pause it," said Aria, prompting Aetius to obey before their target was consumed by the crowds. "Zoom in. Let's take a look at his face."

The impressive resolution of their cameras, even while set in the bleak darkness, revealed Olat's face as sharply as it would appear in person. What was found rendered them all utterly silent.

Four gaping holes in the place of his eyes, glistening with blackened blood that dripped down the varying contours of his face like thin streams of tears, returned their stunned leers with an empty one. Aria reclined in her chair, studying the sight with scrupulous attention to minute detail. She was far more confounded than disturbed. As Aetius had reported, a bullet had been identified as the cause of death. Was it possible that Olat's eyes had been removed while he was still alive, then while traveling through the chaos of the club, someone had shot him? But no gunshots had been reported. A silencer of some sort, then? But then how did he end up in the statue's hand?

"Get a lock on him," Aria said, not wanting to overly speculate yet. "Play."

A red outline framed Olat's body as he strode through the center of the crowds. His path was absolutely straight with no detectable variation, not even to avoid patrons. He either brushed against them or shamelessly pushed past as his legs carried him ceaselessly forward, as if animated by an otherworldly force that had him travel this route and no other; by a trance, an instinctive migration, by the magnetic pull of the death god, beckoning him to his demise. When Olat left the field of vision, the recording automatically switched to a different angle.

"How did no one see that? How could an injury that horrific go unnoticed by all those people?" Aetius remarked in bewilderment.

"Imagine seeing that for an instant as he passed by," Aria said, not looking away from the monitor. "What would you have done? Would you have believed what you saw, in the dark, that this man's eyes had actually been gouged out while he was still alive? Would you go up to him and see if that nightmare was real, or would you rather just pretend that you hadn't seen anything and go about your business?"

Aetius shrugged. "I suppose I really wouldn't want to believe it. Especially since he doesn't seem to be in any agony."

Aria continued to watch the vid without taking her eyes off of Olat for an instant. She was half-anticipating a shot to the back of his head, half-anticipating… she didn't even know what. Anything to discredit the highly peculiar accounts of the eyewitnesses. When Olat's back was to the camera, she ordered Aetius to pause it again. "Stop and zoom in," she said.

He did as commanded, enhancing the image to focus on the back of Olat's head, and what they saw was just as jarring as their first discovery: the gunshot wound was there in all its dreadful glory, taunting Aria where she remained trapped within perplexity. "Play the rest of it," she said, frustration becoming apparent on her voice before the images began to move again. The remainder of the vid followed the stories with impeccable accuracy, from the moment the man climbed over the bar to the chagrin of the bartenders, scaled the statue without a single flaw in the undertaking despite his lack of vision, to when he lied down in Anoragot's massive hand, where the man went to rest for the last time. People were beginning to gather around the spectacle when Aria pushed her chair back and rose to her feet.

"This doesn't make any fucking sense," she growled, pacing behind the two chairs while watching the vid over Aetius's shoulder. People were throwing things at Olat, possibly finding the whole situation hilarious, until a few guards ordered them to stop. After restoring the peace and preventing any more projectiles from entering the air, a batarian bartender began to carefully scale the statue. He grabbed Olat's shoulder, shaking him, trying to rouse the man from his slumber, ignorant of its eternal hold. After a moment he suddenly drew away in fright, likely upon realization that Olat was very much dead, and nearly fell from his perch. The people below were moving now, their masses trembling with panic, retreating away from bar. After shakily climbing back down the body of Anoragot, the bartender staggered over to the guards.

"They called me after that," said Aetius. "And here we are."

"This doesn't make sense," Aria repeated, still lurking behind her employees while immersed in rapid, calculating thoughts. "Something happened to him before he entered Afterlife. Someone did something to him to make this happen. I want to know what, how, and why… I want to speak with that bartender." She pointed at the person in question. "Who is that? Bring them to me."

"It's Bothan Korgess," said the volus. "I'll call him up right now."

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Seated in a private booth beneath the same deathly blue that had cloaked the inexplicably reanimated man as he strode into the arms of a nefarious god, the bartender Bothan Korgess fought to keep his composure while under the scrupulous gaze of Aria T'Loak and her lieutenant seated nearby upon the booth's incomplete circle. It was almost painful to meet Aria's eyes and return her stare; their silvery incandescence burned through the underworldly gloom of lights that flashed, dimmed, and swept over their bodies again like a terrible lightning storm. They were a pair of torches piercing into him, illuminating whatever she wanted of his recollection with the same unforgiving harshness of a sun.

Aria could plainly see his nervous body language. He badly wanted to flee, but she kept him. There were many questions she wanted answered.

"I've heard a lot of accounts tonight," Aria said at length, folding her hands together onto the glass table set in their midst, "and they vary from person to person, but one feature remains the same. Olat Dar'nerah, a dead man, was seen moving himself into the position we found him in. Now, I want to hear _your_ account. What happened?"

Bothan nodded a few times, gathering his voice. "Well, I didn't see him until he was near the bar. I didn't see his face at first, because, you know… I don't really take a good look at anyone unless they're ordering a drink." He stopped to watch Aetius offering his boss a cigarette before lighting a dextro-friendly variant for himself.

"Go on," said Aria. Although she sounded detached and distant Aria was closely listening, even while diverting her gaze to bring forth into existence a small orange flame; a sudden discordance within the surrounding cobalt aura that enveloped them. A lazy steam of smoke followed.

"He climbed over the bar while I was tending to a customer," Bothan continued. "He had already started to scale the statue by the time I noticed what he was doing." When Aetius offered him a cigarette, Bothan shook his head. "No thank you."

"Take it," Aetius insisted.

"I don't smoke. Bad for my health."

Aria removed hers from her lips, tapping some of the ashes into a tray mounted in the table, and tilted her head to the right. "I'm sure you get a lot of second-hand around here."

"Yes, well, I suppose I don't need to be making it worse for myself. But again, thank you," Bothan nodded, returning Aria's gesture by canting his head leftward. "Anyway… when the guy was climbing up, I yelled at him. Told him to get down, but he kept going. By the time he lied down in Anoragot's hand, people had crowded around to watch. They laughed at him. Started throwing things. Bottles. Food. Garbage. I went ahead and stopped them because I knew I'd end up being the one to pick up all their trash, so I told a guard to keep them back while I climbed up after the guy, who at the time I assumed was just drunk. So I pulled up a stool, climbed up the rest of the way, and tried to wake up the poor bastard. Shook him, shouted at him, jabbed at him, but he didn't do a thing. Then I took another step upward to get a better look at him when… when I saw what was wrong with him. Scared the shit out of me. I couldn't believe it. I almost fell right then, but managed to hang on and get myself down again in one piece. Then I called the guard. And… that's it."

Aria looked away from him, glancing about the booth in thought. She relaxed in her seat, pulling a leg up to rest over the other, and finally asked the bartender, "Did you know who Olat Dar'nerah was?"

"I knew the name, but not the face."

"How long have you been working here?"

"A little less than two months."

From where she sat comfortably nestled in the shadows, Aria asked him one final question. "What do you think happened, Bothan? What do you think was done to Olat, to… manufacture this scenario?"

He was silent for a long interval of time, all four eyes flitting about Aria's face. "I… I really don't know. I don't have the slightest idea. Maybe this is some sort of intervention."

"Intervention…?" she languidly repeated to provoke an elaboration.

"From the gods, perhaps," Bothan replied with caution. "They could be angry at him. At us. For all we know… maybe this is a warning. End-times, all that."

Aria's stony expression remained unchanging, slightly obscured by the tongues of smoke rising from the cigarette between her fingers. After a period spent gazing at him with frightening, livid eyes, she said, "You can go now."

"Yes ma'am," he said, graciously nodding before sliding out of the booth and heading back toward the bar.

When he was gone, Aetius turned to Aria. "The end-times, huh?" he mused, sounding jocund as a small puff of smoke left his jaws.

"Apparently," came her dry response.

He chuckled, shaking his head, but gradually became severe once more. "So what do _you_ think is going on?"

Aria reached forward, smashing the remnants of her cigarette into the ashtray. "I think someone went to great lengths to fuck with us." While watching the last, dying tendrils wisp up from their grave like mournful spirits, she frowned, narrowed her eyes, and continued, "Because I don't believe in ghosts."


	2. Eras End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note concerning the apparent traditions of each species about names accompanying ranks. Turians seem to be generally referred to by their surnames, such as the case of "Primarch Victus" (Adrien Victus). Asari, on the other hand, seem to prefer using their first names when following a title/honorific, for example, whenever the matriarchs are referred to (Matriarch Benezia). So I've applied this to councilor titles, where turian councilors will be referred to by their surnames and asari councilors, their first names.

**TORUS INQUIRER — "The Galaxy's Powers: One Big Family?"**

This evening, in the Kassia Concert Hall on the Presidium, Primarch Kylris Estulius will be officially sworn in as the next turian councilor, and thenceforth be no longer known as Primarch Estulius, but Councilor Estulius. As those familiar with turian politics know, one rises through the meritocracy's many tiers by exhibiting exceptional public service, and at the very peak of the hierarchy stand the Primarchs. When the time comes to appoint or elect a councilor to represent the turian race, the Primarchs convene for a vote and select one from their number based on past deeds, merit of character, and their significance in society.

However, when Primarch Estulius was elected in a landslide vote last week, the public erupted in whispers regarding the vote's integrity, as Kylris Estulius is one of six Primarchs hailing from the same extended bloodline. The allegations are tentative and have thus far only arisen from a vocal minority, since a review of Estulius's personal history reveals all the necessary requisites for legitimate candidacy.

"Greatness can run in any family," says Donil Sonus from Kithoi Ward, who has been following the election since its beginning. "There are countless bloodlines just as qualified and decorated to occupy these offices. Our Primarchs are a very honorable group. To be elevated to their position in the first place they've had to serve the turian state impressively throughout their entire lives, so even if Estulius's election might've been influenced by some favoritism from his own distant relatives, he's also a favorite among the rest of his people. I don't expect our new councilor to disappoint."

But not all turian citizens are as equally accepting of their government's decision. Some have complained that the same well-established, highly influential bloodline has composed a large percentage of the Primarchs, as well as prominent business owners and military officials, for centuries. The people of Council space will watch tonight's inauguration with a wary eye, because the extent of suspicious circumstances do not end in turian affairs, but reach as far as the family of our asari councilor as well.

Ralleus Maevian, father of Councilor Tevos and original proprietor of Lysium Defense [a prodigal company who led the way in combat armor and shield generating technologies for decades before merging with Dyssix Arsenal, which proceeded to stand the test of time until becoming what is currently known as Armax Arsenal; now a major supplier of military-grade turian armaments and gear] several centuries ago, was also part of the same bloodline as Kylris Estulius, and is widely regarded as the man who first lifted his line from obscurity and into fame. Although Councilor Tevos no longer has legal ownership of any portion of Armax Arsenal [after signing over her inherited shares to her half-sister Iona Maevian], the fact that Kylris Estulius is technically—by validation of records, if not by literal blood—a cousin of Councilor Tevos has become a wide point of contention and conjecture.

"Most turians don't want to admit it," says turian dock worker Nelia Aquilus, "but most have this… tiny feeling of doubt. We're just too proud to say so. I'm not saying Estulius has been unfairly selected, but I think people should see this as a sign to keep an eye out, because our system isn't incorruptible. And part of our duty as turians is to correct injustices whenever we see them. To take a stand when needed. But as long as these guys—this powerful extended family—do what the people expect of them and keep everything clean, I've zero problems. I respect that family immensely. They've served our people well and they will always deserve that much respect from me."

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Tevos had grown accustomed to the feeling of many pairs of eyes upon her at once. Their gazes would brim with expectation, seeking to capture and immortalize any hint of inappropriate phrasing or self-contradiction. Their stares, as always, were as harsh as the lights trained on the podium at which she stood with the salarian councilor, preparing to open the ceremony with a short, well-rehearsed speech, a standard sentiment of congratulations and goodwill delivered to the impending third member of their trio. Another showcase to highlight the immaculacy of galactic politics.

But the galaxy was a dark place, both literally and figuratively. Throughout the time spent holding her office, Councilor Tevos had witnessed countless secrets, cover-ups, and pulled strings. So very few knew what she knew.

Advanced obelisks containing unimaginable wisdom lied hidden in distant temples. Investments in Traverse research and development flourished under the shielding arm of the Council despite questionable practices in both morality and conduct. Violent allies from foreign domains had shaken hands with them, forging delicate armistices that could be exploited or broken in an instant, cutting a swath for hostilities anew. Spectres or STG units would march into their offices with blood on their palms and openly declare the liberties they had taken to complete their objectives. And they would be pardoned, sent out again without a hint of remorse felt at doing anything wrong, not because they lacked the capacity to feel guilt, but because they _had not_ done anything wrong, not in the eyes of the Council, the law (or lack thereof, especially in the case of Spectres), or to those many citizens who admired their work and justified, _rationalized_ , every felled corpse.

All these things done in the name of galactic concord and stability. In their minds they only did what they felt was the lesser evil, and no more than that could ever be expected from anyone. But minds—even those of the highest officials—wavered, stumbled, and faltered. In logic and in reason, in reality and in motivation.

The moment of unease she'd feel surging through her limbs always faithfully returned to her each time she took this podium. And each time she would stave it off for the sake of both herself and society, and proceed with utmost poise beneath the pale golden lights extending over the sea of eyes.

There might have been a time when Tevos was idealistic, unexposed to the extent of what her job would inevitably entail. Not even her many days spent working closely with her predecessor and glancing many items of disconcerting information had not adequately prepared her. Those experiences were but a brush against the very tip of an iceberg.

The celebration of the next turian councilor—this extraordinarily significant, symbolic, and well-regarded ceremony in the eyes of most whether they actually found enjoyment in watching it or not—had now begun, calling upon the the councilors to preside and wear their most amiable masks. And worn they were, from the gentle smile on Tevos's lips, to the Victa Jansius designer dress wrapped around her body as an emblem of class, success, and taste. She, having seniority in office, opened the speech with the warmest voice she could conjure.

"For centuries the Citadel Council has stood as the functioning beacon of galactic wholeness," she began. "Various races from every corner of our galaxy have found their way into a community established on the pillars of knowledge and prosperity, where we join efforts in seeking the answers of the strange and wide universe we have found ourselves within, and to secure peaceful, fulfilled lives for every individual who steps forth bearing honorable, selfless contributions." The asari councilor kept her eyes forward, gracefully altering her gaze whenever the flowing artistry of her subtle inflections deemed it appropriate. "Though our path has been rough, marred by times of war and grief, we have persevered by the great nobility of citizens and soldiers, scholars and scientists, families and friends. But time inevitably moves us all forward through countless developments, some expected, and others wildly unforeseen. Eras that begin must also end." She stopped, glancing at the salarian councilor beside her, who continued as rehearsed.

"This past decade was a proud one," he said, "and I myself am filled with pride at the privilege I was granted, to have worked alongside Councilor Alvian. It was only befitting for his elected successor to equate his merit and character. After much deliberation, the honored Primarchs of the turian people presented our community with a individual deemed worthy of such a prestigious position. We the Citadel Council formally welcome, with much approval and eagerness, Councilor Kylris Estulius into his office and look forward to maintaining the greatness of our society with his voice present in our trio."

When the brief opening speech of the ceremony came to a close, ovation was generously given and did not quell until the two councilors had left the stage and returned to their seats in the very front row. The previous turian councilor, Gallinus Alvian, accompanied by Primarch Estulius, now strode up to the podium in replacement and were greeted by the same praise. The last ten years in office had left Alvian with a tired dullness in his facial carapace only compensated by the intelligent glint in his eyes, but his successor Estulius stood tall and stately, being the owner of a charismatic smile and a relatively fit build despite recently entering his sixth decade of life.

While Alvian proceeded with his standard introductions and assurances of duty and integrity to be found in the man beside him, Tevos discreetly turned her head a few degrees to speak over her shoulder, willing her quiet words to reach her friend seated one row behind.

"Was I too rigid?" she inquired. "And I hope my tone wasn't sickening."

"These little speeches are always sickening," Irissa replied with a smile, leaning forward to help her reciprocally hushed voice find the councilor. "But you made it bearable. And anyone still given any degree of indigestion probably forgave you just for wearing that dress."

"I see," Tevos said, her response growing in volume from an amused hum.

"I'm never sure whether you pick up on my innuendos or not, Tevos," said Irissa. "You always convey to me _half_ -understanding, but I never know whether your prudence has censored the other half."

The councilor returned her attention to the stage, content with leaving Irissa without an answer.

At the end of Alvian's short speech, he turned to Estulius and began reciting the turian version of the councilor's oath for their selected candidate to repeat. When the final words were spoken, the building erupted in lengthy applause as Alvian departed, leaving the new turian councilor at the podium to deliver his own speech.

"When I was boy, just starting boot camp," he began, "I honestly had no idea how I'd live up to the greatness of my father. He was a lifelong military man, a hero in my eyes, and I vividly remember marveling at all the decorations he acquired over time. As a boy, I was immensely intimidated. I wasn't sure if I'd be able to make him proud in the end. But here I am, and my father is with the Spirits, hopefully here this evening to see how far his son made it. But not only do I feel the pride of my father, but the pride of the entire turian race. An overwhelming honor. We're a proud people, very parsimonious with our praise, exclusively reserving it for those individuals who have thoroughly proven themselves to the community. And to be the recipient of that praise... transcends words. So great is this gift that it steers me in the unwavering direction of repayment. I make this promise today, to all of you, turian, asari, salarian, volus, hanar, batarian, elcor, drell, _every_ soul in this noble realm of united peoples, that I will perform to the very best of my abilities to protect and preserve our safety and prosperity; values that echo in every sentient being, values of happiness and honesty..."

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

The moment the skycar's doors hissed open, the group climbed inside and settled down into their seats. The doors shut again, locking into place with a click, and the driver sent the vehicle into a smooth, steady rise. They left the platform behind, ascending to the heights of baleful spires hanging inverted from the district above like stalactites spanning a cavern's vast ceiling. When the vehicle merged into the brisk tides of traffic, eternal dusk gleamed over its body and created a vacillating, reflective sheen. Within the compact shell, the passengers initiated their confidential discussion.

In the back row of seats, Aria spoke first. "Let's hear the results," she said to the asari beside her.

The forensic specialist Kriana gave a nod, bringing the familiar glow of a datapad to life. The emitted light bathed her face. "Olat Dar'nerah's death was indeed caused by a gunshot wound to the back of the cerebral cranium." She gestured at an anatomical diagram in her datapad conveying the damage she had scanned from Olat's body earlier that day. With a pair of fingers she manipulated the model to enhance the area she spoke of. "The fatal injury was inflicted by a small round, which we recovered." Kriana reached down to the satchel lain across her lap, gingerly sifting through its contents before producing a sealed bag with the tiny item safely inside.

Aria took it in hand, examining the bullet under the flickering, sweeping lights that doused their bodies in sporadic intervals. "What gun fires these? It looks batarian." She held the bag closer to her face, noting the metal type and color. "And it's old."

"We matched it to a model no longer in production, not for decades. A small revolver of batarian origin, called a _druta_. It's more of a ceremonial firearm than one fit for killing. Not much use for one on Omega, I mean. Whoever the owner was, I suspect they're part of a very small club." She showed her boss a picture of the gun on another window brought up on her datapad. Bronze mechanical parts intercepted the body of black encrusted by beautiful batarian patterning. When Aria returned the bag containing the bullet, Kriana slipped it into the satchel again. "The bullet tore through the region of the brain responsible for motor skills, as well as lower-level ones, including breathing and organ functionality. He died very quickly."

"And what about him climbing the statue?" Aria asked. "What do you and Havlon have on that?"

"Doctor Havlon originally suspected some sort of parasitic spore to be at work," answered Kriana, "as there are many documented species capable of hijacking a host's body functions in such a manner. However, after running countless tests, we could find no foreign biological anomalies in the body, and so that hypothesis was dismissed. Whatever was done to Olat Dar'nerah was likely to have been electric. For example, running a current through muscle tissue to induce spasms. But we found absolutely no devices inside the body able to reanimate the corpse with that level of exhibited sophistication and precision of movement."

Aria looked away from her, casting her gaze to the scenery beyond the window instead; the sedated hues of ash, rock, and the everlasting, haunting premonition of a fire somewhere nearby. "So we've got a dead man walking, who entered Afterlife unharmed as reported by witnesses and bouncers. Therefore whatever happened to him was done somewhere in the club itself, which we cannot find in the security footage." When the skycar passed between two massive structures, a deep shadow obscured the interior, blackening the forms of their bodies until they emerged into the light once again. "And I find it to be quite obvious," Aria began anew, eyes still peering outward, "that whoever is doing this had something personal against Olat. And just this morning, as we found, against Lieutenant Pasora as well. Has Havlon spoken of that yet?"

"No ma'am," replied Kriana, words accompanied by a negating shake of her head. "Just his complaint of not having much to work with."

For the first time during their ride, the batarian piloting the vehicle spoke up. "As small as it was, why use a bomb? Aren't there much more… subtle ways of taking out someone?"

"Pasora was vain," Aria said wryly while reclining into her seat. "I don't think she'd be happy to know that the corpse she left behind wasn't pretty. It was quite appalling." A wrinkle in the bridge of her nose appeared in recollection of the bloody mess splattered around the corner of a local restaurant, and in the booth, where the disfigured remainder of the asari commando sat; chest split wide open, dripping organic debris onto the table like the sweet flesh of a melon given forth from its broken rind. The lower half of the face had been stripped, with ivory bone of both teeth and skull glistening with streams of darkening violet—and to top it all off, a thin, expensive cigarette still resting between two bloody fingers, no longer anything but a stick of ashes forgotten by its owner, who slumped forward with dreary, sightless eyes glazed over by a violent, sudden death. In further reaction to the memory, Aria's features gradually hardened into a menacing glare. "These assassinations were carried out in a manner that most insulted the target," she reasoned aloud. "It's a _very_ personal affair. Either both of them angered the same entity, or the entity is indiscriminately after my entire administration. The latter is more probable." A moment was spent pensively drumming her fingers upon the seat in a steady, barely-audible rhythm that merged with the gentle hum of the vehicle.

Not only were these mysterious murders plaguing her, demanding her attention and swift response, but a struggle between her syndicate and a gang known as the White Crests was drawing out much longer than she had originally estimated. They were engaged in a deadlock over territory in the Kenzo District, and although Aria's forces were steadily pushing forward and eroding White Crest numbers, the area was a thicket of haphazardly stacked structures that created something no less than a maze in which entire platoons could hide and slip away. The only reason why Aria hadn't opted for a more aggressive invasion was for the fact that a slower approach lessened her amount of casualties, but as the situation became increasingly time-consuming, Aria was beginning to lean toward a change in plans favoring an all-out assault just to be done with it. Securing the Kenzo District would free up some operatives to help with the assassinations, at the very least.

A sudden chime in her omni-tool captured her attention. Aria answered the audio-only call. "You better have some good news for me," she said coldly, awaiting her officer's response.

After a hesitation, the man spoke. _"I'm afraid I don't. You still want to hear this, or should I wait until another time?"_

"Just tell me."

" _They got another."_

"Fucking _hell_ ," Aria cursed when her worst suspicions were confirmed. She turned to look beyond the window again, bearing venom in her glare. "Who?" she asked at last. "Where?"

" _They got Aetius Visiom. Lower Kima District, sewer entrance five."_

She initially said nothing. The other occupants of the skycar remained equally silent and as motionless as possible, perhaps wishing to disappear into the very upholstery to avoid being scorched by the rage igniting within their boss.

"We're on our way," Aria muttered at length before ending the call.

The driver changed course, diverging from the current traffic flow and joined a route linking them to the new destination. Their skycar entered a long tunnel, coming under the staggered points of illumination mounted in the ceiling whose glazes of industrial orange began skipping over the vehicle. Beneath the flashing, warm light continuously passing through the tinted windows, coating her angered body, Aria sank back into a string of thought.

She had not expected Aetius of all people to fall victim to carelessness. His entire reputation was founded upon his reliable discretion, his mindfulness, his pragmatism. How could he have let this happen? When the skycar left the tunnel they emerged into dusk again, soaring between the bleak buildings of the Kima District. Her eyes washed over the craggy vista, the complexes, the somber apartments...

As her thoughts evolved Aria suddenly looked away, returning her stare to the vehicle's dark interior, and paused within deep cognizance for a few brief moments.

"Stop up there," she said to the driver, shifting forward and extending her arm past the row of seats to point at a convenient landing platform on the tier they traveled alongside. "I need to make a quick call."

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

On the surface of a metal desk set before a window overlooking Omega's solemn labyrinth, an e-book's text filled the screen of a tablet. The reader poured over it, absorbing written accounts about the first worlds discovered by asari explorers long ago. Illustrious gas giants cloaked in eerie auras, garden planets teeming with alien flora, hostile orbs of molten rock shifting and churning ceaselessly throughout time. And occasionally, celestial spheres blessed with deep oceans and mild weather, suitable for both expeditions and eventual colonization. It was romantic. Ships would sail out into the void, sometimes for years, even decades, maintained by the ambitious minds aboard braving space's daunting limbo for but the sake of knowledge.

Most returned. Some ships never did. The reader particularly wondered about those—were they destroyed? Did they get lost? Did they crash land and construct their own new society? Then there were those vessels that appeared to be lost, sometimes for decades, only to reappear on the horizon of the Parthina System one day proudly announcing a completed mission. Their survival stories were remarkable, often involving the growing or breeding of their own food aboard the vessel, harvesting new fuel sources from planets stumbled upon, and even a handful of births had been documented. They were drifting townships, perfect communities in their own right, traveling over the astonishing distances never intended to be traversed. They had seized their own destinies. They had set forth into the wide universe their people had suddenly awoken within one day as incredible, tiny motes of dirt and water. Disoriented, with purpose uncertain, and yet, still mustering the courage to venture outward, only armed with insatiable curiosity and an ounce of resourcefulness.

The sound of the room's door disengaging and sliding open caused the reader to abruptly turn around. She identified the intruder as a familiar matron, who lingered in the doorway until being granted acknowledgement. "Iaera," said the reader, reorienting the chair to face her visitor with confusion lighting her eyes.

"I have some unfortunate news," said Iaera, taking a few steps into the bedroom. "We're going to be moving again. Start packing your things within the hour."

"What?" the girl furrowed her brow, taken by both surprise and confusion. "We just moved not a month ago—"

"The orders come directly from your mother," explained the matron, "so it's non-negotiable. But I can tell you the reason why. There have been deaths in her administration. Assassinations. Your mother fears that you could be targeted as well, and so she wants us to relocate again."

A frown. "Sounds like paranoia. Her administration is always getting themselves killed, and none of the current lieutenants even know about me. It's not like the information could be taken from them."

Iaera pursed her lips in disapprobation. "These assassinations have been executed very professionally, and with a capable enemy comes the possibility of tapped communications. They could know about you. Don't you think this inconveniences me as well? We're all just trying to keep you safe. That's the point of all this, our main priority."

Liselle turned away, facing the window again and leering out at the city, growing silent for a while. "Are you sure the main priority isn't getting paid?" she quietly asked, voice tainted by accusation. She wrapped her arms about herself in uncertainty. "I heard you a few months ago, when you were both talking in the other room... When I turn sixty, you get to retire with ten million in your account."

"Liselle..." Iaera shook her head incredulously, dolefully, and then donned an expression of offense. "I watched you grow up from _infancy_. It's not just about the money anymore. Don't you dare think that I haven't come to care about you as a real family member would." She drew a bit closer to lay a hand on the girl's upper arm, hoping Liselle would grasp the sincerity of her words. "You're almost a daughter to me, Liselle. I may not be your mother, but I care very much about you and would do anything to make sure you're safe. And that includes moving on such short notice."

The maiden tapped her foot on the floor a few times, still frowning, but the displeasure soon morphed into emerging guilt as she swiveled the chair to face Iaera again. "I'm sorry," she admitted. "Everything just... frustrates me."

"What frustrates you?" Iaera asked, patiently taking a seat nearby upon the edge of the bed and looking at the girl, whose body was obscured by the shadow it cast upon itself after intercepting the window's warmly-hued glow. The catalyst of Liselle's frustration, regardless of its current form, was undoubtedly the move. The girl had never quite acclimated to a very loose definition of home.

Liselle hesitated, bringing her eyes downward to piece her thoughts together. Her pale irises visibly flitted about the drab, carpeted floor while formulating an answer, and when she had one, she lifted her head again. "I don't know... Maybe Mother. She treats me like a helpless child. Not like a person completely capable of defending herself."

"Liselle, don't you think Aria's administration were also capable of defending themselves? Even they were killed by whoever was after them."

"But Zuria's been training me for longer than some of them have even been alive," Liselle objected. "In turian or batarian years I'm middle-aged! Listen to my voice!" She gestured emphatically by touching her fingertips to the high collar that clad her throat, bringing attention to one of the only reliable gauges of an asari's age. "I don't squeak like a little girl anymore! I haven't in years, I'm just... I'm not a stupid child anymore, but she still treats me like one. Just keeping me hidden and safe because failing to protect me—one person—would probably embarrass her..." She turned, resting her elbows on the desk, and brought her hands up to cover her face. "I didn't mean that," she said, voice muffled and contrite.

Iaera rose, approached the girl, and laid a gentle hand upon her shoulder. "You know she loves you," she said. There were few additional words she could spare in reassurance. The unfortunate truth was that Liselle was _not_ ready to face the world on her own, and wouldn't be for quite some time, by the collective judgement of her tutors and caretakers.

"I know," Liselle said, her conceding reply muffled from keeping her hands over her face. She only removed them to speak again after recognizing the impediment they caused her speech. "And I know we have to move. I understand. I'll start packing right now... I just get restless, you know? And sometimes... sometimes I just can't help but blame Mother for that." Her aimless gaze fell upon her tablet where it lay on the desk, just as she left it. The screen was dark with hibernation. "She's what's keeping me holed up here, away from everything. And whenever I _am_ allowed out there's always an escort of commandos with me, all telling me where I can and can't go, what I can and can't do..."

After an empathetic pause, Iaera responded. "I understand where your restlessness is coming from," she said, giving the girl's shoulder a small, reassuring squeeze. "It's completely normal for someone your age. Just remember not to let this restlessness take control of your life, because you are an extremely important person, Liselle. It would be awful to see you get hurt as a result of _recklessness._ I promise—a day will come, perhaps sooner than you think, when all your patience will be rewarded. You'll be armed with biotic skill and an education. Those things will take you far on Omega, especially combined with your mother's blessing."

Liselle was initially quiet and immersed in thought, but ultimately decided to nod in agreement. She rose from her chair, nearly matching Iaera's height when standing with legs erect. The girl's stature still took the matron by surprise sometimes, for it did not feel so long ago when Liselle was but a small child jumping around on the sofas before supper, or when she requested help to reach high shelves, or when her mother would lift her from the floor and into her arms whenever she visited, quietly uttering _sweetheart_ and other words that sounded strange on Aria's lips. And now, standing before her was Aria T'Loak's daughter, the very same girl—albeit taller, wiser, and stronger—brimming with potential, and keeping the same alert, questioning facets in her eyes she had possessed since childhood.

She was gentler than her mother. She smiled and laughed more often, more benignly. Her eyes would shine, and on occasion she would inadvertently scrunch her nose in delight as humor took hold, and she was capable of doing so without siphoning detriment from others to synthesize comedy for herself, a tendency of which her mother was guilty. And although whenever crossed Liselle's words could arrive just as icily and injuriously as Aria's, she did not evoke nor demand the same absolute terror from witnesses to her glares. Liselle was very much her mother, but she was also very much not; in the arenas of temperament, interpersonal distance, and the preferred degree of ostentation in one's image, mother and daughter stood incredibly separate. Iaera often pondered about whether it was a blessing or a curse to have been spared from a second Aria.

Of course, Iaera was immensely loyal to the Pirate Queen, but she could not deny the dread felt toward the notion of raising a brooding storm like Aria had probably been years ago during her adolescence. Had Aria always been the same? Had there ever been a time when Aria laughed with the purity Liselle harbored, or had she only bore a perpetual frown, finding enjoyment in fist-fighting with other children? It was exceedingly outlandish to attempt picturing Aria as a child. Every time Iaera tried to envision her at such an age, the mental image would instantly warp back into the shape of Aria's present self: when not placidly seated in Afterlife and surrounded by its luxury, sprinting like a predator in pursuit of prey and methodically tearing through enemies with biotic explosions, shouting in the euphoria brought by prolonged engagements against formidable enemies.

Iaera wondered if Liselle would ever come to mirror Aria in that respect. Her biotic aptitude was still in its nascent stages, so it remained impossible to determine whether or not the girl would one day develop the sort of magnificent destruction her mother could call upon. It was hard to imagine a maiden so devoid of truculence following in those footsteps, as anyone who had ever seen Aria in battle could see the infernos of raw ambition she tapped into, subjugated, and redirected to her will. Liselle could never muster such power. Wrath was simply not present within Liselle in large enough amounts to ever be weaponized, and so Iaera utterly failed to see such potential within the girl she had essentially raised. She knew this well. She knew Liselle possibly better than her own mother.

And yet... as she recalled, despite Aria's frequent absence, Liselle had always stubbornly identified as her mother's daughter rather than attaching herself to Iaera. It was a product of Aria's will, for she had specifically forbade Iaera from supplying surrogate motherly affection. Kisses and embraces only came from Aria when she was around to give them, all to condition Liselle's bonding, to train its growth toward her biological mother over any other.

But was that not horribly selfish of Aria, to starve a young child of affection until she decided to be present? To allow the young Liselle to mope or cry on some nights when her mother had been gone too long, leaving her deprived of the comforting contact vital for her development into an emotionally and mentally healthy person? Aria had taken that risk, and Liselle had emerged from her imperative first years of life relatively functional, but the gamble was still an unjustifiable crime unto her daughter.

Did Liselle ever think about that? Did she ever look back to her early childhood and see with her matured mind, now capable of recognizing things she was previously unaware of, that her mother had committed a terrible transgression? Did she resent her for her selfishness, or did she understand Aria's intentions and either forgive or agree with her? As Iaera left Liselle in her bedroom to begin organizing her belongings, she continued to contemplate without revealing her secret thoughts.

Now alone, Liselle proceeded to place items of most importance upon her bed, arranging them in neat categories as her own mind began to wander and speculate about Aria T'Loak.

Assassinations targeting her administration were certainly concerning, but her mother had dealt with similar situations before. Omega was always engulfed in some type of strife, and it often leaked into Aria's territories. But she always put it down. Brutally, swiftly, and completely. Before long the problem would be solved, maybe even within the week, and moving would have been for naught. That was how things usually turned out.

Her mother was untouchable. Even when allies around her fell, Aria would always emerge unscathed after taking the fight to whoever instigated it in the first place. She was unstoppable, unmatched. Liselle welcomed a small smile into her face. She admired and loved her mother, after setting aside all the frustrations and limitations that came with being her daughter. Aria was in no danger. She was never in danger—and the only times when she seemed to be were when she was faking out an enemy to gain the upper hand.

Still, sometimes Liselle worried. She wanted to ask Aria questions, to investigate things such as whether she too was ever afraid. And beyond queries confined to the topic of her empire, Liselle also had many others that remained unanswered. Too many, she realized. But she held her tongue more often that not, because there were just some things one didn't ask Aria T'Loak. Aria would either pretend to ignore the question by turning away, or blatantly refusing to answer it. The latter was the most frequent reaction. And pressing her mother for personal information, or even certain information Liselle felt in her right to know, was generally futile.

Over the years, Liselle had learned to not ask those questions in the first place. Not because she had lost interest, but because of imminent failure.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

When Councilor Estulius's speech had finally concluded, another roar of ovation engulfed the building. Other diplomats high on the pecking order joined him on the stage, shaking hands and drawing close to exchange friendly words. The sea of people in their seats rose in waves, becoming a protean mass of bodies relocating, congregating, and some departing. Then came the media, set loose from the areas they had been restricted to until this point in time, now all rushing toward the stage with camera drones in tow. Estulius laughed when someone brought them to his attention, and he stepped forward unfazed, more than willing to answer their many questions.

In the front rows of the audience, C-Sec had taken to their posts around the other two councilors, keeping the press away at a safe distance until the politicians said otherwise.

"Looks like someone released the varren," Irissa quipped to Tevos, having to raise her voice over the din erupting in the great room. She nodded at the reporters in gesture. "They're going to come after us when they're done gutting Estulius. Shall we save ourselves and throw our press secretary into the pit, or should we stay to lend her a hand?"

Their press secretary, seated beside Irissa, shook her head. "Oh, that's _hilarious_." She rose from her seat along with her superiors. "Do what you will, just don't overfeed them if you choose to spare me a horrific demise."

"I suppose we can give them a few words," said Tevos, walking alongside the two other asari within a cage made from C-Sec officers. "It would only be proper to publicly comment on our new turian councilor, don't you agree?" As if her words were an invocation, a group of reporters spotted her, came rushing over, and were held at bay until Tevos told C-Sec to let them speak to her. Irissa and the press secretary stood nearby to observe the spectacle.

A slew of questions found the councilor, all at once, and she could only resolve by specifically singling out one of them to speak first.

"Rina T'Gona, Banveria News," said the lucky reporter. "Councilor Tevos, what new ideas and policies do you think Councilor Estulius will bring to the Council, in contrast with Councilor Alvian's?"

She tilted her head to ponder a moment, folding her hands neatly behind her back. "That is certainly yet to be seen, but judging by Councilor Estulius's military leanings, veterans might expect some reforms."

Another question was issued by different reporter. "Councilor Tevos, how do you respond to the comments regarding your family ties to Estulius? What relations do you still have with the bloodline?"

Tevos hesitated, glancing over at Irissa and the press secretary, whose eyes had slightly widened. She turned back to the press, confident in her ability to properly handle their tactics. "As an asari, my relations to that side of my family have been diluted with each successful generation after my father and his other children. At this point in time, the people composing Councilor Estulius's family are as estranged to me as any other bloodline."

"Councilor, what about Ralleus Maevian's companies, that still primarily remain in the ownership of Estulius's extended family? Do you have any ties to them?"

"I relinquished complete ownership and association to my sister long ago," Tevos began, growing wary and swiftly less inclined to continue answering, "as I had little interest in owning a portion of a company specializing in warfare innovations."

"So you condemn what your father's company has become? Or your sister's choice to inherit it? Do you condemn weapon suppliers as a whole?"

The asari councilor indulged in another pause, suddenly thinking it a mistake to have decided to humor the press. The questions were becoming less of a convivial interview regarding the new turian councilor, and more of an interrogation propagated from an opportunity; a single suspicious link between councilors, bearing the slightest potential for nepotism, to be exploited and utterly devoured by their manic hunger for sensationalist stories. "My answer is no to all of those questions," said Tevos. "My reluctance to inherit that conglomeration was a result of my personal preferences, as I already entertained specific ambitions for my future at the time, and they did not entail business management."

"Councilor Tevos, was relinquishing ownership of your father's company while choosing to keep Theralia N'Vani's share of the element zero and palladium market a socio-political statement? Did you wish to disassociate yourself from your father's family to avoid becoming a part of your maternal bloodline's empire of corporate connections, obtained largely via strategic marriages? What was Theralia N'Vani's agenda in regards to—"

"The only present _agenda_ is your own," Tevos said, keeping a surprising amount of civility in her voice. "These questions are shamelessly jaundiced and I have no desire to answer any more of them."

The C-Sec officers dutifully formed a wall between the councilor and the press, helping her escape their vicious scrutiny. To most, Tevos's indignity was nigh invisible, but to Irissa, who had known her for centuries, it was as glaringly noticeable as the lights emitted from the camera drones hovering around like creatures of carrion.

"Councilor Tevos!" the reporters called after her. "What is the reason why you chose to keep your family name in its present state rather than converting to the customary 'T'Vani'? Was that a conservative statement? Would you say that you advocate regional asari government as opposed to global policy?"

"Do you consider yourself an emissary for your family?"

"What gains has your family made from your position as asari councilor?"

After rejoining the ones awaiting her, Tevos gave them a cryptic expression. As they began to depart, she told them quite dryly, "I did not expect to be so openly assaulted. I was under the impression that we'd exclusively be discussing Councilor Estulius, but evidently my parentage from centuries ago also meets that criteria."

"How long have you been in office again?" Irissa remarked. "The press loves nothing more than obscure conspiracy theories. They're all scrambling for viewers and ratings and they'll string you up and persecute you until you've bled enough to satisfy."

As they continued toward the hall's exit, guarded by the ever-watchful C-Sec, Tevos subtly shook her head. "Ironically... it's somewhat anticipated in a discussion of lineage. Certainly a demographic comprising less than a fraction of one percent of the Thessian population, yet possessing nearly four percent of _all_ privately owned wealth on that world, poses an excellent topic for persecution. _My_ offense is in their assumption that being a product of those select northeastern pedigrees is indicative of involvement in pretentious cabals revolving around market domination. Which I am not, which I have never been nor want to—which is the reason why I signed over my father's business to Iona long ago."

"I don't mean to be contrarian," Irissa disclaimed as they neared the main doors, "but you _are_ part of that family. Maybe not your father's line so much anymore, but to be fair, you've lived off your mother's wealth and name. You were given priority all your life, and it might even be why the matriarchs and Asari High Command wanted you as councilor despite your youth in comparison to other candidates. They wanted a liaison between them and that family. Maybe by keeping reins on you they could keep reins on the 'rest of them'."

Tevos suddenly stopped, turned around, and faced her friend with an indiscernible expression, just as unfathomable as the one she had given them after escaping the press. Her green eyes were lightly quivering, reflecting the many thoughts flying through her head at dizzying speeds. After a moment she turned away again, having said nothing, and resumed their departure from the building, only to be met by another barrage of flashes and glaring light cast by people trying to capture holos of anyone even moderately significant. And Councilor Tevos was near the very top of their list—the asari councilor from a bloodline whose name was deliberately frozen in time to manufacture prestige for themselves, a seal of wealth, exotic dialect, excess; segregated in the mountains amid the ice-covered lakes to create an aspect of exclusivity, cold and distant toward those who were not them. Cold, like their hearts, vanity, and credits.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

When the skycar descended to the street the doors lifted, permitting the passengers to rise from their seats and exit. The moment Aria's boots touched the ground she entered a brisk stride toward the congregating guards standing around the synthetic gully leading into a main channel that ran into the vast sewer system permeating Omega's tangled infrastructure, and destined to eventually arrive at a central purification plant. Her pace increased in speed with anticipation as she approached, preparing to demand knowledge of what fate had befallen her valuable right-hand lieutenant.

"What the hell happened?" she barked, coercing the complete attention of all in the vicinity.

A turian officer answered her. "Aetius Visiom and his squad were completely wiped out," he reported, stepping aside to let his boss join them at the edge of the sloping culvert.

The sight awaiting her was a deep gutter of murky water, stained by varying hues of blood diffusing outward in dark, cloudy halos around the four floating bodies. Two more guards wearing biohazard suits stood at the base of the culvert's declivity, looking out at the same scene from where they lingered at the edge of the pestilent water, leaving everything undisturbed until told otherwise by their boss, who loomed seething above.

"By who?" Aria asked, hands clenching into fists at her sides.

"Well, they were checking out some explosions that happened somewhere around here. I had some techs get into Visiom's omni-tool without having to touch the body. Recovered the data and read through everything he sent or received today. One of the last things we found were just the orders you gave him this morning—"

"Orders?" she repeated, narrowing her eyes at the officer. "What orders?"

"The ones telling him to check out the explosions."

Aria swore. "I didn't give him those orders." She looked away, activating her own omni-tool and searching through her sent items. After finding no evidence of recent correspondences with Aetius, the glowing device faded from sight. "A trap, of course," she concluded, returning her eyes to the dead souls, half-sunken and slowly, gradually drifting toward the wide black mouth of the drain patiently waiting to swallow them whole. "Pull them out," she called down to the guards below, who promptly began treading through the dismal, waist-high mire and toward the buoyant deceased.

She watched the body of Aetius Visiom being retrieved, dragged over to the cold metal shore, and rolled onto his back. There, protruding from a weak spot in his chest plating was the hilt of a turian ceremonial dagger, his very last memento from the little colony he left behind long ago. Streams of old water and blood ran down the rivets and curves of his armor, gathering into a pool beneath the corpse. Aria's choleric gaze continued to rove over him, up to his face, where she made a second gruesome discovery—his brow plate had been viciously pried off, revealing the flesh beneath, glistening raw in the light; and his mandibles had been snapped away, leaving what remained of his barely-attached jaw disturbingly mangled and jagged.

When the other dead had been towed back to land, Aria found no such mutilations inflicted upon any of their bodies. It was apparently a privilege reserved for her loyal administration, she grimly mused to herself, barely able to stave off the ire that had been building up within her head and chest in volatile proportions. "Who sent him the fake message?" Aria asked the officer, returning her leer to Aetius's body.

"Still trying to make sense of it," he replied. "The address of the original sender was heavily encrypted. Aetius probably thought _you_ were just trying to be cautious. Got a few guys on that right now, but I'm not sure if they're going to be able to get anything out of it."

A shout rose from the trench. "I've got something!" The man in the biohazard suit held up a small item. It was impossible to distinguish from the distance at which Aria stood, however, and she resolved by gesturing for the man to bring it to them.

"Better not be another bomb," she said down to the man obliquely traveling up the precariously narrow pathway leading up from the culvert.

"Found it in Visiom's throat," the man said up to her, though his voice was slightly distorted by his suit's helmet, coupled by the slur of physical exertion. "We scanned it. It's a capsule; nothing potentially dangerous inside. No traces of poison or anything either." When he made it out of the culvert, he held out the small metal orb to his boss in the palm of his gloved hand.

Aria frowned with revulsion, gazing down at the coat of blood and bile encasing the capsule. She jerked her head in the direction of the turian officer standing beside her, who took it instead. His hands, unlike Aria's, were completely covered. He examined it, found a thin line encompassing the orb with an equator, and twisted the halves in opposite directions to retrieve what lay inside. Tentatively, he reached down into one of the halves, grasping something within two digits, pulled it free of its sepulchral shell, and held it to the light.

"It's… It's paper," he announced, turning over the tiny, folded sheet a few times in his hand. The antique means of communication perturbed him.

"Open it. Read it," Aria said to him, intently watching him as he followed her orders.

After unfolding the note, the officer revealed lines of text written by a computer's hand, in a turian dialect. Fortunately, it was one he recognized with fluency.

_"The dead can't read. But you can. These people died spectacularly, but you won't. You will die pathetically, choking on your greed and arrogance and we will parade your corpse around the districts like a trophy. Your wicked regime is coming to an end."_

When the officer had finished translating the message for her, Aria nodded, hands placed on her hips. "Let's see... unoriginal, typed up on a device... and without an explicit addressee. I can't imagine who it was meant for," she sardonically remarked.

"What do you want us to do?" the officer asked as the gravity of the threat sunk in. His boss might very well have been in serious danger, and that also meant that everyone affiliated with her was in equal peril.

Aria had no answer for him. Many valuable people had died all within the span of a single day, and their murderers were still at large. She could not bring the fight to them. She could only play a defensive game, and not only did that infuriate her, but those who played defensively were doomed to lose in the end. Discovering the identity of the enemy was urgent. Before she could say anything to the man, another shout arose from the culvert, redirecting their attention.

"Visiom's got something!" the guard who remained below said. "Tucked in his undersuit's sleeve! It's uhh… It's a shard of armor with a serial number!"

"Someone check that out," Aria said. The significance of that little shard was great—Aetius always had a habit of concealing small possessions within his gloves and sleeves, usually spare ammunition. For something else to be there was of immense importance and worthy of close investigation.

A salarian tech soon came jogging over with the results, bringing up his omni-tool's screen and presenting his findings to Aria. A three-dimensional model of the armor shard appeared in the projection, slowly rotating to showcase its dimensions. "The fragment is part of a helmet, evident by the degree of curvature and the location of the serial number. Foreign blood residue is asari, who was likely the owner." The salarian manually manipulated the model, zooming in on the serial number that appeared along with the full scan. "Original manufacturer of the helmet is on Omega, Kenzo District, and is also the main supplier of gear for Enarius's White Crests. With that accounted for, and judging by the gray paint of this specific hue and location on the helmet, the probability of this fragment belonging to a White Crest member is extremely high."

Aria looked away, down at Aetius again, and felt pride swelling in her chest. Her lieutenant had likely acquired the fragment after managing to bash one of his assailants' skulls in. Perhaps while his squad held them off for as long as possible, Aetius had broken off the targeted piece of the helmet, slipped it into his sleeve, and rejoined the fray, if only to lose his life in the end. Nevertheless, he had secured something invaluable for his boss, a vital piece of evidence to wield against his enemies even in death, to ensure the continuity of Aria's organization from beyond the grave. _Son of a bitch_ , Aria thought with a smirk, and vividly remembered why she had appointed Aetius as her right-hand in the first place. Blood would soon be spilled in his honor.

"Get me Lieutenant Renaga on a secure line," she said, only having to wait a few moments before a thug rushed over to her with the glow of an omni-tool upon her arm. It projected the hologram of an asari, who appeared to be seated somewhere.

"We've got a lead," Aria said to her attentive lieutenant, whose brow rose with interest. "White Crests, down in the Kenzo District. I want you to relay orders and get reinforcements over there within the hour. Use the beta-six encryption key."

Renaga nodded. _"You want the reinforcements to bunker down with the established ones?"_

"No," Aria said, pacing a few steps to the left. "We're taking that district today. Now, here's the important part. We're still targeted. All of us. So when you deploy the reinforcements... ditch the routine. Adopt unpredictable movements so they can't take you out, because I'm certain they're going to try. I want you _all over_ the map, I want you all to virtually disappear while heading over to the Kenzo District _. Disappear_ into the cities, fan out, travel by alternate means, _go dark_. We'll rendezvous at the front lines and charge forward. On foot, through buildings, whatever we need to do. I want to hit them fast, hard, and I don't want the Crests to ever recover."

" _Yes ma'am."_

"Good. Hold on." Aria turned to the rest of her operatives in the area. "Listen up!" she said. "You four stay here with Doctor Kriana and work on the bodies. The rest of you are with me. We're going to the Kenzo District."

There was swift movement; a rush of people, organizing themselves at once like a fantastic machine with all components exquisitely synchronized. They climbed into their skycars within cohesive units, activated their engines, and sent the vehicles into idle hovers with doors still hanging open while awaiting their boss to lead their warfaring caravan.

" _You're coming?"_ Renaga's hologram dubiously inquired, not fearing for Aria's life, but for the sheer chaos and destruction lying in the near future. Aria rarely joined sieges of territory, preferring to leave those operations in the hands of her adept officers, but when she did, the effect was similar to having a few extra gunships flown in. _"Don't you think we're being a bit hasty?"_

Aria faced her again. "You mean, 'don't you think this might be a trap'?" She afforded the other asari a knowing nod. "There's a good chance that this _is_ a trap. But what's our alternative, Lieutenant? Sitting around while my administration collapses, waiting to see who's the next hit? I don't think so. If this is a trap, then someone will likely be around to spring it. And if I catch a single _glimpse_ of them... " Aria paced back the number of steps she had deviated from her original spot. "It's worth the risk. If they want me dead, they can take their best shot. Now get moving."

" _Right away_ ," confirmed the lieutenant, whose image vanished from sight.

Aria motioned for the guard who provided the line of communication to follow her into the skycar she arrived in. When Aria boarded the vehicle at the head of their miniature fleet, she stood out on the edge of a step, holding onto the door with one hand, a gun in the other, and called out to her mercenaries, "The White Crests want to fuck with us, so let's go fuck with them. I want a bloodbath. I want a _fucking slaughter_ , do you hear me?"

Voices arose in a chorus of affirmation.

"Shields online," she said before pulling her head back into the vehicle, and issued an order to the driver. "Let's go. Even if these bastards turn out not to be our real targets, at least we're changing up the game."


	3. Long Live the Queen

Three exceptional agents stood at attention as their superior prepared to address them. All were quiet, patient, and as resolute as statues—icons of duty, protectors of the galaxy at any and all costs. They were the elite few, bound by no laws save those directly established by the Council, whose gaze commonly turned blind even when those too were infringed upon.

At long last, the councilor lifted her gaze from a trio of datapads lain on her desk, all filled with each Spectre's report from their last mission. She was not pleased. Although they had certainly employed noble amounts of effort in the investigation as they always did, the results were curiously non-reflective of it. When the reports were read together, and when an attempt was made to connect each account to create a cohesive model of true events, the product was baffling at best.

They contradicted one another to _obscene_ degrees. One reported more Omegan ships entering Citadel space from the Sahrabarik system bearing Alunigen B2 in their cargo. Another claimed those named ships hadn't even passed through the Sahrabarik relay at all. And the final of the three spoke of possible routes within the Attican Traverse, seemingly isolated from the Terminus Systems entirely.

Tevos quietly sighed, trying to contain her exasperation. "The intelligence you've gathered is... rather incomprehensible when compiled," she said, choosing her words carefully. The facial expressions of all three Spectres remained stoic. Perhaps they had already realized the inadequacy of their obtained data, and had anticipated the councilor's reaction. "I will not declare your efforts a failure, however. Because of this... collection of contradictions... we can assume that somewhere within this entanglement of accounts hides a shred of truth. I'm not jesting, so don't chortle, Spectre Neora. Neither am I giving any of you consolation. Nothing of that nature. I'm quite serious." She paused, adjusting the position of one datapad in particular. "For example, the case of a ship arriving from Omega. Both reports list an identical registry number, so it's assumed that this same vessel was monitored by both of you. But in Spectre Neora's report she confirms it passed through the Sahrabarik relay, while Spectre Lerath's denies it. Both are greatly detailed accounts. Therefore, we can assume that one of you witnessed something being deliberately staged, and the other likely saw the unaltered version of what is actually transpiring."

"I have a suggestion," said Lerath, the sole salarian of the group.

"Go ahead."

"Something occurred to me when you speculated that one of us witnessed something being staged, undoubtedly to throw us off course," he said. "If this is true, they're following our movements. They're keeping a keen eye out for Spectres, and they know that we've been appointed to this task despite its high level of classification. We're operating too overtly. As _Spectres_. We need to improve our cover. Stop using our usual ships, carry fake IDs, anything we can do to stay under their radar." He exchanged quick glances with the two asari Spectres standing on either side of him, seeking their agreement. "We probably don't realize that as soon as we come into close proximity with a potential information source, they shut their mouths after seeing our armor, our weapons, even when we aren't flying Citadel colors. We're obviously people of wealth, or funded by a source wealth. And anyone with such a profile is not going to be trusted."

"You think we'd have better luck hitting the streets instead of tapping communication lines of suspects?" Spectre Tela Vasir questioned him, sounding somewhat dubious. "You want to start relying on the vagaries of rumors?"

"We need to start assimilating, I mean," the salarian clarified. "Speaking to suspects as if we were fellow dealers or interested in procuring drugs for our own usage. Stings, essentially." He returned his wide, alert eyes back to the councilor.

"Is there an abundance of users on Omega?" Councilor Tevos inquired. "Perhaps you can start there. Speak with people. Ask them where you can access the drugs for, ostensibly, your own recreation."

"We'd hit a dead end pretty early on with that strategy," Neora shook her head. "I highly doubt the dealers are going to let us get any further. They gain nothing by revealing the identities of the people they're obtaining the Lucen Dust from. Rather, they could be murdered for compromising that sort of information. They won't take that gamble."

"If we can find a big-time dealer," said Tela, "we can find their source. It's only a simple matter of shadowing them around, getting into their private files and correspondences. Easier said than done, of course. They'll probably be well-protected. But at least this approach puts us in a better position than what we're in right now."

The councilor nodded, thinking for a moment. "Neora and Lerath. You were both in Sahrabarik during the last few days, monitoring communications and keeping an eye on Omega's activities. How is Omega faring? Has there been large economic growth, or possibly new rising factions? If Aria T'Loak is not our culprit, a rival syndicate might be. What have you been hearing?"

Lerath supplied his own information first. "Well, concerning new factions, there was one. The White Crests. However, while I was in Sahrabarik, there was some uproar about them being almost completely eradicated. Apparently, Aria T'Loak's syndicate waged war against them in the Kenzo District and successfully took the territory. That's what I gathered. So, I suppose they're more or less ruled out. Aside from that, Omega's been a victim of more chaos than usual. There's been frequent power shifts amongst the smaller factions, and Aria T'Loak's administration suffered a few assassinations."

"Really?" Tevos asked, voice remaining leveled despite her intrigue. How peculiar it was to hear that. When she last spoke to Aria only about a week before, she had seemed so... confident. She had been sitting on a mountain of pride and ongoing success, left completely unperturbed to continue enjoying the reaped rewards of her smart administrating. Aria was so proud, so dismissive toward idea of the Citadel's accusations being a legitimate cause for worry. _Nothing_ had seemed to cause her worry. Had those assassinations disturbed her complacency?

"Yes. Three, if I recall correctly. In startlingly quick succession. But after the fall of the White Crests, they ceased. It would appear as though that group was responsible."

"I see," she said. "What of you, Neora? Have you heard similar things?"

"Yes ma'am," Neora replied. "Virtually identical accounts. I gathered a bit more on... urban levels, so to speak. Civilians, if you could call them that. With all the shuffling around of territory, sympathizers to certain groups are being forced to either adapt to the new powers controlling their districts, or relocate. Many are partaking in violent retaliations, but most have been put down. The retaliations are not exclusive to any group. They're widespread and occurring in many separate districts. Civil unrest, I suppose," She paused to recollect her trail of thought. "Anyway, I think Omega's populace, at this point, could be described as becoming polarized. Either vehemently in favor of certain ruling powers, such as Aria T'Loak's dominating syndicate, or vehemently against her. Let's see; I'd say the statistics are roughly—this is within her own territories—approximately seventy percent in her favor. This is probably because of repercussions that come with procuring districts still filled with denizens who may or may not welcome the encroach of a different crime lord. They skew the statistic." She gave an illustrative shrug.

"So in other words, Aria T'Loak has been annexing districts too quickly," the councilor nodded in understanding, diverting her gaze for a moment to ponder. Aria's greed was as prevalent as ever, it seemed. Occasionally Tevos wondered about that—whether Aria had contrived a sustainable system, or countermeasure, to contain backlash resulting from her aggressive ambitions and campaigns. Aria was a very thorough person, so she must have known exactly what she was doing. Whatever was currently happening in her territory was likely temporary, just a period of inconvenience before the inevitable rebound back into her usual, complete reign over her districts. Tevos spoke again. "Do you think the Alunigen B2 suppliers could be using Omega as a conduit; taking advantage of all its current disarray?" she asked, directing her question at them all at once.

"It's a fair possibility," offered Lerath. "But I suppose we'll find out more over the next few weeks."

  **.**

  **-][-**

  **.**

Familiar music filled the air, traveling through the lounge and reverberating into the chests of its occupants. Three days had passed since the seizure of the Kenzo District, and three days had passed since the last assassination. The correlation had inspired celebration, primarily by those having participated in the battles, who now drank and laughed in the lower area of Aria's guarded lounge as a reward for their contribution.

Their glorified leader, however, was not among them. She was seated at her usual perch in the upper lounge in front of the balcony overlooking her beloved club, doing business. The Kenzo District, now entirely under Aria T'Loak's control, was being systematically purged of White Crest supporters and partnerships and now yearned for replacements to fill the vacuum of its former economic status. The Traverse businessmen in Aria's lounge—an old salarian, a turian, and a volus—were to be the first representatives to receive partial ownership of the companies and property Aria had recently procured, which they would manage to her preferences and share in a generous portion of the profits. Aria's proposal, as it stood with myriad benefits such as posting her forces in their managed areas for protection, was undeniably alluring. And the only condition was that they, when conducting their usual business in the Attican Traverse, carry out her whims, invest in what she desired, and bring more prominent and greedy individuals onto Omega to be introduced to Aria's extensive networks.

What Aria did not disclose to them, was that a lesser rival of hers had been long preparing to attract their business to his own territories. Drialus Lorhan, the reclusive turian lord of Omega's smuggling economy, had simply been too slow. The time he wasted wasn't the least bit Aria's concern, nor would be his future dismay upon learning that Aria had stolen new business from him. Because he wasn't like Aria. Despite his access to troves of goods and the money they generated, Lorhan was no mob boss. He spent his days digging deep moats around his impregnable fortress in the Zeta District instead of expanding it, and in Aria's callous opinion, he deserved to suffer for his lack of offense on a station that demanded it. And that included losing prospective deals with new business.

The sole reason why Aria hadn't bothered voiding their tentative treaty to lay siege to his organization was because it would require an expenditure of resources too large to be profitable at this time. But one day, after whittling him down through one economic blow after another like these, she'd prod him a final time, and his towers would all come tumbling down at her feet. It was a long-term plan, one that would possibly require a _decade_ of feigning concord, but Aria had the time. She had _plenty_ of time.

As she outlined for the businessmen the distribution of ownership and general business models, a roar of laughter found its way into their midst, originating in the lounge below. Aria and the businessmen spared the tables a glance, investigating what subject had been of enough hilarity to disturb their conversation. Locating the source was an easy task; a drunk batarian, the center of attention, was in the middle of a riveting story.

"We came from everywhere!" he said, waving an arm in a wide sweeping motion to illustrate. "All sides! Buildings and streets and we swarmed the district! The Crests fled from us like _irusga_ , like... uh, what do you call it...? Insects, pests! We hunted them, like the seasonal culling of the livestock! It was a slaughter! And then..." He suddenly staggered back one step, rousing more laughs as he stabilized himself while tightly clutching the drink in his hand. "And then, when we arrived at their hideout, some shithole warehouse... we had Aria at our front, you see. They had the place heavily guarded, but we fucking tore through their lines like demons! Enarius was waiting inside, frightened like a child! Angry like a child...! Aria T'Loak went after him! And when she was done with him... his neck was gushing like a geyser! Like... Like a freshly-opened bottle of Erszbat sparkling wine...!"

Another round of laughter erupted to life, engulfing the mercenaries seated around the batarian man. They reclined in their chairs, holding hands to their heads at the man's colorful recount and raising their glasses to yet another version of the bloody tale. Aria, who had been listening, nearly smirked. But she withheld it. She was still conducting important business agreements, and could not afford to be distracted.

"Malak," she said to the man. "How much have you had to drink?"

"Uh..."

At his inability to recall, the mercenaries chuckled. Aria nodded. "Someone call this man a cab. He fought well in the Kenzo District. Help him out."

They obeyed her behest. Having mitigated the uproar, Aria turned back to the businessmen seated with her, became comfortable once more, and continued. "Where was I? Oh yes—the transaction should be kept off Traverse books until further notice. We'll do the record keeping here. Once we've got everything properly established on Omega, you can link up everything with the Traverse and get all the appropriate licenses for that. Do we have a deal?"

"Absolutely," said the volus. The other two concurred.

"Excellent," said Aria, reaching for the drink she had set upon a glass table in front of them. She looked into the horosk's radiant color, and indulged by bringing the glass to her lips and downing a generous amount. This variant was a light blue—a hue very reminiscent of Lucen Dust, she mused. And then, her thoughts wandered. To the Citadel. To Councilor Tevos and that unanticipated resurgence of the drug whose smuggling was still presumably linked to Omega. She wondered how the investigation was proceeding, as her own had yet to yield any concrete results. It would only be matter of days until something came up, for although the galaxy was vast, secrets were hard to keep for long. Someone out there knew; or someone out there knew _of someone_ who knew. Sooner or later, a segment of that chain would be discovered, and the only thing left to do would be aggressively following it to the source. She glanced over at her guests, wondering if, perhaps, they had heard anything in the Traverse. "By the way," she said, immediately drawing their eyes in her direction, "I suppose you've all heard about Alunigen B2 making a return to Council space?"

"Oh yes," replied the salarian. "It's been quite the topic. I don't suppose you're responsible? Ah, a useless question. Even if you were I wouldn't be told of it." Seeing a small smirk appearing on Aria's face, he nodded. "But yes. If I'm not mistaken, most fingers are pointing at Omega nevertheless. No one seems to know the supplier, or those who do are being incredibly tight-lipped about it. It's probably coming from some remote world owned by a rich contractor bored enough to take on a new hobby."

The turian beside him gave an amused exhale. "That would certainly suit the circumstances. Personally, I don't care in the least bit about drug trafficking, not until a Spectre made an appearance on a few Traverse worlds the other day. We don't get them often, but when we do... It sends everyone scrambling away. They're a hindrance to productivity with their snooping around, demanding to see manifests, searching cargo... Whenever they show up, we generally waste an _entire_ work day because we dedicate all our time to properly making sure everything's in order. You never know when they're going to file a report against someone. The Citadel Council claims to not interfere with Traverse enterprises, but that's complete bullshit. If they have a good enough reason, they'll send some people in and sabotage whoever they don't like. I've seen it countless times before."

Aria reclined in her seat, observing them while arranging a method to benefit all parties present in her lounge. After a moment spent within her mind, she spoke again. "I can take some of that pressure off of you," she told them. "While I continue investigating the producers and smugglers, I can also have a little chat with one of the councilors. I'll see if I can persuade the Council to lay off, because if their investigation drags on for too long, the Spectres might start putting pressure on our extended enterprises out here. And we can't have that. I won't tolerate it." She downed the remainder of her drink.

After a long pause, the volus returned to their former discussion. "So... how soon can we start repurposing these buildings?" he asked. "Is the Kenzo District... safe enough? There isn't a resistance who might try attacking us...?"

"My control over the Kenzo District is absolute," Aria replied. "So you don't need to worry about that. When I acquire territory, I make sure I have it _securely_ in my possession. At the slightest hint of trouble coming your way, be it civil unrest or otherwise, all you need to do is alert any of my officers and they will arrange to take care of it for you. I can assure you that." She placed her empty glass on the table.

Her closing statement was as powerful as it was irrefutable. It proclaimed to them everything she was—the self-crowned ruler of Omega, the land of the lawless, the fortress of crime and freedom. Ruler of a station untamed and as apathetic as the harsh universe cradling their fragile existences. If she could wield the power of such a realm... then one would never doubt that she was capable of anything she promised.

"You," she said, pointing to the nearest guard. The batarian man had almost become a permanent fixture in her lounge over the many past months. "Go get us some more drinks. Elasa will do, and make sure to get something dextro for our turian guest."

He left at once. As Aria awaited his return, the businessmen initiated a casual discussion about the stock market. She only partially listened, preferring to instead entertain herself with thoughts of other things.

When their drinks arrived, the guard set down a small tray on the table and delivered each one to its owner, taking special care to identify the dextro-friendly one by a red band around the glass before placing it in front of the turian man. Aria sipped her drink, savoring the strong, yet almost sweet taste of the Thessian alcohol—one of the few pleasures that actually made her the slightest bit nostalgic about the homeworld. She relaxed. She was content, surrounded by the spoils of her hard work, still unmatched by any opposing power, and still crowned as Queen.

She felt the familiar warmth of alcohol in her blood, diffusing throughout. It was a fine luxury, a superb, self-indulgent reward; a slight, languid aspect seeping into her thoughts, just enough to put her at ease as she pondered issues still needing to be addressed by the end of the day.

Although her investigation teams were still trying to piece together the mysterious circumstances under which Olat Dar'nerah was murdered, at least order had been restored as of late. That was satisfactory for the moment. As the businessmen chatted, she crossed her legs, lending them her half-attention again, and the occasional input whenever she felt it necessary. Small talk was useless, pointless. She only humored them because she didn't want to scare off her new connections, with her tolerance also aided by the temperament-altering effects of her drink.

The warmth permeating her muscles was apparent now. But it was... different. Sharper, becoming a minor ache, resembling fatigue after a long period of exertion.

She shifted her position to regain comfort, but as she did, she noticed something odd about the arm involved with the motion. It had trembled, suddenly losing strength for a split second, accompanied with a bite of pain. Vexed, Aria lifted her hand, feeling the stinging ache again while examining the appendage. As she held it before her face, her eyes traced the delicate movements of her fingers. They were involuntarily shaking against her will, even as she attempted to calm the digits.

And then the illness arrived. It came in a dizzying wave of heat and nausea, washing over her, then again with her heart's every palpitation. Each was more intense than the last, soon coercing shallow breaths between normal ones, ever-growing in prevalence until she found that her lungs no longer permitted expansion to their normal capacity. Her eyes were widening. She looked down into the glass still held in hand, rotating it as dexterously as possible, and sank into grim realization. There, on the inner surface of the glass was a barely-detectable, colorless residue, only noticed by its disparate reflection of light. She touched it, coating her fingertip with a clear substance which was easily rolled between her quivering forefinger and thumb as she analyzed it.

_Betrayal._ The terrible word congealed in her mind, cold and without sympathy.

Aria was on her feet at once, dropping her chalice of poison to the floor as she rose, and was assaulted by a bolt of pure agony that viciously surged throughout her entire body. She lingered there for a second, suspended in a glove of pain perfectly tailored to her body's dimensions. There were many stares upon her, questioning her disconcerted appearance and peculiar actions. Guilty and deceitful stares. _Treasonous serpents_ , she thought of them in her burgeoning panic.

The guard who delivered their drinks had disappeared. She was lost, unable to find in her field of vision a single ally who she, now that disloyalty had been exhibited, could trust with her endangered state. She needed to get away from them. Survival instincts branded them all as threats, as enemies. And so she sprinted, down the steps of the lounge while enduring the pain piercing into every muscle as she ran, staggered, and lurched forward in her struggle to live beyond that day. Down the fiery halls of her own palace she flew, blood coursing with impending doom as the music throbbed in her head unperturbed. She ignored the exclamations of her guards as she passed them and those of confused patrons whom she brutally shoved out of the way while fleeing to the relative seclusion of a restroom.

When she rushed past the opening door, the floor's uniform incandescence of angry crimson light bathed her, and although Afterlife's music had become fainter, its low, brooding thuds still bled through to taunt her. She burst into the first stall and the door was sent banging against the wall from her forceful, urgent entrance. Without another moment wasted, Aria dropped to her knees and rammed her fingers down her throat.

  **.**

  **-][-**

  **.**

They hadn't precisely finished unpacking yet, but a break was deemed harmless. The four commandos helping Iaera and Liselle safely move to another apartment were stationed with them for the remainder of the week anyway, on Aria's decree. They weren't going anywhere any time soon, so everyone tasked with bringing the dwelling to comfortable living conditions could do so at their leisure.

There also existed on their minds the possibility of having to suddenly move again, in which case their hasty efforts would be totally wasted.

Upon arrival, Liselle had frowned at the apartment. It was an obvious downgrade, evident by a broken pipe beneath the kitchen's sink, a few old stains on the carpeting, and a ventilation system which incorporated fans mounted in the upper walls, keeping air flowing freshly through the abode, albeit at the expense of being forced to listen to the slowly-turning blades' annoying, monotonous hum during the night. But her largest qualms were about her new room. No longer did she have an adjoining bathroom of her own, and her closet wasn't even of the walk-in variety. It was unacceptable.

The very worst part of it all was the fact that their move had been for naught. The very evening they settled in and began unloading their belongings, Aria had called bearing news of not only neutralizing their number one suspect, but also the acquisition of the Kenzo District in its entirety, thus uniting it with what fragmented pieces she already controlled. And then the assassinations completely stopped. Yet Liselle _still_ had to complete the move and remain at their new address until further notice. It was nearly a joke as well, that Aria had obtained a brand new home in which she could further expand her industrious enterprises, while her daughter had been hastily relocated from an apartment she had become particularly fond of over the short month spent living within it, and into a much less desirable one.

Reluctantly, Liselle recognized her frustrations as being relatively petty in light of what could have happened if someone had actually targeted her, or if Aria had failed to stop the threat. So she held her tongue, respected her mother's judgment, and proceeded to settle into the apartment without a single verbally expressed complaint.

Her biotic mentor Zuria had arrived the previous day to stay with them. That at the very least brought Liselle a little joy in the whole troublesome ordeal. Zuria was a matron of almost six centuries; experienced, talented, but most importantly, trusted by Aria. From what Aria once told Liselle, Zuria had been one of her first allies gained after arriving on Omega approximately two hundred years ago, and had fought alongside her in countless battles. But as the years went on, Zuria's interest in being one of Aria's lieutenants—therefore expected to lead innumerable firefights and sieges—steadily deteriorated. She was tired, she had told Aria. Tired of Omega's perpetual war incessantly following her until death, but because she remained unquestionably loyal to Aria, she requested a different position. And so she was reassigned to jobs involving intelligence for quite a while, until one day receiving a new offer from her long-time boss. Liselle always smiled whenever she remembered Zuria sharing her recount of the brief conversation she had with Aria almost fifty years ago:

" _Zuria,"_ Aria had said, _"How would you like to give someone private biotic lessons?"_

" _That actually sounds like a nice change of pace. But who in the world is getting your—and my—special treatment?"_

" _My daughter."_

"... _Aria, what the fuck?"_

And Zuria, as deadly as she was, had always been good-humored. She was humble, easily approached, and although Liselle got the impression that she was a little sad with the outcome of her life, Zuria had gladly accepted the long-term job Aria offered her.

Now, after decades, she and Liselle were placidly seated on the floor of a bedroom. Boxes were stacked in the corners, still mostly filled with possessions as a product of their laziness, and between them both laid an arrangement of cards. They were playing a game Zuria had taught her years ago; an old Thessian strategy game dating back millennia, simply given the name _Nekyia_. According to Zuria's explanation, the morbid name was suiting, as the game was a rudimentary simulation of war tactic based on a radically hierarchical society. Apparently, almost immediately after the ancient inception of the game, a stigma had been attached to those who played it: they were often accused of being sympathetic to warring societies, and on Thessia in elder days, such a label was synonymous with absolute moral depravity.

Zuria often joked about that. She said it was ironic, that as much as she grew tired of war Nekyia remained her favorite game, proven by her ownership of a physical deck of cards, all printed in high quality with vibrant colors and durable lamination.

When she was younger, Liselle would often ask to see the cards so she could lay them out and marvel at them. They were beautiful and intricate, each containing a romanticized work of art depicting ancient asari in different societal roles. She used to spend hours beholding them, eyes roaming over their lavish robes and gemstones, goblets encrusted with jewels, spears dressed in beads and animal teeth, and the elegant carvings in the bows of archaic archers. One could hardly tell the cards belonged to a game of war—but that was the fantastic essence of it all, Zuria had said; an asari's deadliest weapon, aside from her biotics, was her cunning. Her secrets, her deception, and her connections.

With that general concept grasped, teaching Liselle the rules of the game was an easy matter. The deck could be split into two identical halves, one for each player, and they would place five cards from ten originally drawn face-down in a neat row, symbolizing their actively warfaring lines. At every turn, a player was given a choice of four different moves, called by thematic names: retreat, espionage, substitution, or assassination. The game was over when one player lost their three high cards: the mystic, the Ardat-Yakshi, and the monarch. The hardest part, Liselle had found, was memorizing which cards defeated which, as there were low cards that could successfully defeat the high ones. And of course, Liselle had tragically lost countless times against her mentor for years before finally securing her first triumph several years ago. Her wins were still nowhere as near as abundant as Zuria's, but Nekyia was enjoyable, often required hours to complete a single game, and was therefore a delightful way to pass time during the frequent spells of limbo plaguing Liselle's daily life.

"Has your mother been by lately?" Zuria asked her as she successfully murdered Liselle's poor priestess.

The maiden frowned at the loss, selecting a replacement for her casualty from her hand before reaching over to draw from her deck again. "Lately...?" she repeated, her attention mainly invested in their game.

"Yes, lately. Before I arrived."

After the words clicked in her head, Liselle replied, "Yes, she came by the day before, to make sure we were settling in all right. She only stayed about an hour, though. Espionage." She pointed to a card lain on the floor, and after flipping it over, was given sight of a huntress. Liselle did her best to remember its position for future reference. "She asked about my studies and training. Which are, as usual, coming along decently."

"Decently? Your studies must be in a horrific state, then."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, since the two combined creates an average, which you described as 'decent', then your studies must be the factor pulling it down. After all, with a mentor like me, you should be doing no less than excellent."

Liselle snorted.

After spending a few moments smiling at her own joke, Zuria asked the maiden a different, though relevant question. "How is she, by the way? How's Aria been doing? Especially after all these recent incidents."

She shrugged, wishing Zuria would at least make her move between bouts of conversation. "No change to her usual disposition. Not anything I could see, anyway." She looked up, meeting her mentor's dark blue eyes. "You know, she acted like she usually does while visiting. Sort of distant, like she's saying one thing but thinking about something else." When her gaze drifted back to her hand of cards, she felt a tinge of dolefulness. "She doesn't come by very often anymore. I get that she's busy, but you know... I still miss her sometimes. I wish she'd stay long enough for us to talk about something less... quantitative. No more 'status report' tones. Just an actual, genuine conversation."

Zuria said nothing. Instead, she watched Liselle become distracted and begin to stare blankly at a spot on the floor between them.

Liselle was no longer thinking about her mother. The sound of the fan in the wall ceaselessly rotating had stalled her thought process. It wasn't a buzz, a drone, nor even a steady whirl, but a patter of faint squeals as the blades gradually spun, almost a counter of passing seconds. The more she focused on the irritating sound the louder it became, heightening her awareness of the moment and extending each unit of time to unbearably long intervals, dropping her into a torturous, purgatorial state of mind—the complete absence of the entire world save for the insufferable fan uttering its low murmurs, whispering the same word over and over again; oblivion.

She wanted to tear it straight from the wall.

  **.**

  **-][-**

  **.**

Aria could purge no more from her stomach. She gagged, chest heaving, and lurched in vain while her skin was pricked by the ghosts of many needles constantly being driven deeper into her flesh. Whatever poison had reached her blood was screaming through her veins, wracking her body with violent chills and impaired senses. She was reeling, vision spotted by bright mosaics of silver and gold stars, and during her desperate struggle to keep her balance within the spinning world, Aria noticed something out of the corner of her eye. Movement—the sight of boots in a stall at the very end of the row. Thick black soles had shifted their placement, and soon, steps were taken. Aria weakly pushed herself out of her own stall, feeling the searing pain ignite anew. After adamantly dragging her body over a short distance, she managed to prop herself up against the metal wall, oriented in the direction of the fellow occupant in the restroom.

The stall's door opened with a light creak, allowing the owner of the boots to emerge. Aria looked upon them, but only saw a swirling silhouette of black, further smeared by many nodules of pale green light set symmetrically along the limbs, the chest, the neck, like many eyes glaring at her shivering body. Whoever it was remained there, hands neatly folded in front of their hips, content with merely observing her within the sinister red haze.

She carefully monitored them while simultaneously attempting to regulate her shallowly-drawn breaths. When she tried to pull herself to her feet, Aria was immediately stuck down again by debilitating agony. The needles in her muscles had become knives, biting all the way to the bone and mercilessly carving, as if being sadistically twisted about, with every movement she made. She was imprisoned in that spot, suspended in a paralyzing web woven from the center of her body outward, strung through fibers of muscle and delicate walls of organs, ensnaring her in an inescapable thicket of pain. A light sheen of sweat had risen on her skin.

There was a low thud from deep within the restroom, its origin indeterminable. Another, this time metallic in nature; and then, a sudden bang as the grating over a vent was thrust from its place, flying outward and crashing loudly against a stall's door before clattering to the floor. From the vent another person skillfully dropped, clad in the same black covered with many blurry green eyes. They glanced directly at Aria before joining their clone and assuming a similar idling stance.

The main door opened. Aria turned her head, tightly clenching her jaw at the dizzying pain it brought her, and saw the third member of the apparent trio strutting into the restroom. The asari was in the middle of pulling a dark mask over her head, and by the time she had finished, the door had shut behind her and sealed with a familiar red light appearing over the lock.

Aria stared up at her wavering, distorted image as she neared, still struggling to breathe while overtaken by periodic, involuntary shivers. There was a ringing inside her head, ceaseless and flat. She managed to breathlessly address her company. "You'd better leave while you can... My guards saw me running here. They're going to... come after me. They'll be here any second to kill you."

The other asari reached her, standing tall over Aria's weakened form, and her voice came slightly muffled by the material over her mouth. "Yes, we _would_ be worried," she said, looking down at her through two ominous, clear glass circles fitted into the eyes of the mask. The green orbs of light dotting her black suit joined her gaze, casting a deathly glow upon Aria's jacket and exposed stretches of glistening skin. "If they were coming at all. It really is too bad..." She lowered a hand to Aria's head, harshly digging her fingers into the rivets of her crest and pulling her back. Aria gritted her teeth at the pain it brought, snarling at her with as much rage as she could currently muster. The assassin continued to speak. "It's too bad, knowing that the people you surround yourself with in the lounge are loyal to a fault until you present them with a better offer. That's how it is. You fight for the ones who'll give you the most, just to survive. But it was still pathetic, watching Lieutenant Anikot jump ships so quickly when we dangled the Gozu District in front of his face. We told him it'd be his once you were out of the way. And now he's watching the door for us, telling everyone he's acting on orders, that everything's under control..."

Aria looked up at her with hateful eyes, but her message of pure ire was cut short. Her head was suddenly yanked further back, exposing the column of her throat, against which she felt the cold kiss of metal. Aria was still, albeit unable to contain the constant paroxysms her body had succumbed to as a product of physical shock.

"I'm sure you understand," said the assassin, her voice sounding unnervingly gentle, almost sickeningly so. "After all, this is just how it is on Omega. Regimes rise and regimes fall. You wouldn't have it any other way; it's how you got here, after all. But it's also how you'll leave." She pressed the blade into her throat, applying just enough pressure to draw a narrow line of violet. "I want to know if you're scared. I want to know if Aria T'Loak fears death just like all the urchins choking on their own blood after being shot like animals and abandoned, just like the dirty children scrounging in the gutters, unseen and wretched."

Aria said nothing, chest delicately quivering with every strained breath. She stared up into the soulless dark circles over her captor's eyes, unable to see them through the malevolent red sea and deep shadows.

"We're going to clean up your mess," the asari sneered at her, searching Aria's eyes for a vestige of fright. But the pale blue irises did not betray their owner; they were proud, wild, displaying a maelstrom trapped in dormancy beneath—evinced by their livid brightness, viciously glinting in spite of crippling illness. "We'll inherit Omega once and for all."

Aria's fierce eyes remained unwavering, never diverting from her enemy's ghoulish masked face. Her throat was overwhelmed by tremors, inadvertently pressing into the blade's edge with every labored gasp for breath.

"I want you to feel like they do. I want you to feel terror when you die."

  **.**

  **-][-**

  **.**

"I want to attempt an assassination," said Zuria, flipping over her heiress card.

Liselle pressed her lips together in a thin line, dreading the result of her mentor's turn. "Okay, go ahead."

She pointed at Liselle's left-most card on the floor, provoking a sound of immense exasperation from the girl as the card was turned over to reveal its identity. There in all her glory was the monarch, seated upon a magnificent throne, glint with shimmering gold paint, clad in robes of long and luscious materials—rich purple in color.

"Nooo," groaned Liselle, realizing that her monarch was her final high card. Her hypothetical state had been overrun by the enemy, and she had lost the game. She sank to the floor from her sitting position, coming to lie down on her side in a frustrated heap of ruin.

Zuria chuckled at the girl's theatrical interpretation of watching one's empire crumble. She looked at the cards which had determined the game, pensively gazing at the familiar artwork. She took one into her hand, studying it for a long time before setting it back down. "You know, Liselle, this particular card—the monarch—always reminded me of your mother. Not just because of the name... But look. She's got the same eyes."

Liselle pushed herself up from her supposed grave on the floor, supporting her weight on her arms as she examined the card in closer detail.

"That same cold blue," Zuria elaborated. "Like yours as well, obviously, but your eyes are different than your mother's. Although you both share the same pigmentation, hers are... a little harsh, like the stab of winter. Oh; you haven't, well, _felt_ winter, have you? Imagine a cold wind, chilling you to the bone. Ice beneath your feet. But I'm digressing... have you ever gotten a strange feeling whenever exchanging a stare with Aria, this tiny feeling of uneasiness that slowly grows the longer she looks at you?"

Liselle smiled, then nodded.

"This one, the monarch, always gave me a bit of that same feeling."

The maiden continued to examine the monarch card while lying comfortably on her stomach. She understood what Zuria meant. The monarch's eyes were icy and lofty, exuding pure authority as she lounged amid all her decadent riches. Peerless and all-seeing. Utterly fearless. As the connection between the monarch card and Aria burned a permanent place in her memory, leaving her from that point on forever unable to view the card without being visited by thoughts of her mother, a query developed. It was a simple question, something Liselle had always wondered, but never found the voice to ask. So at last she looked up again, meeting the eyes of her mentor once more. "Zuria?"

"Yes?"

"Do you fear my mother?"

A crease formed in Zuria's brow, but she did her best to answer as honestly as possible. "Well, I'd rather say that I _respect_ her. But in a situation, say, where she's threatening my life as the result of undesired behavior on my part? Certainly. Of course I'd fear her. Any sensible person would." She paused a moment. "Do you fear her?"

Liselle hesitated. She seriously contemplated the question—her own question—redirected to herself. She recalled times when Aria had expressed her displeasure with something she did, whether it was reprehension for defiance or otherwise. Sometimes her mother had grabbed her arm, pulled her close, and spoke in a terrifyingly low voice, carefully outlining exactly what misconduct needed to stop. As a child, Liselle often cried after that mode of discipline, but she wasn't sure if the tears were from fear so much as they were from knowing that her mother was angry and disappointed with her.

But far more common was Aria's patience with her. Liselle would never point it out, but her mother had quite a considerable soft side for the people she was fond of. Well, it was considerable when held in comparison to the treatment she gave people who she _disliked_ , at least.

Aria would never intentionally cause her harm. Liselle was safely within a category whose comforts would be shared by no other soul. She transcended the gauge Aria consulted to determine someone's worth. Loyalty, intelligence, usefulness in battle—all those things were irrelevant when Aria's love overpowered all other categories combined. She had nothing to fear.

"No," Liselle finally gave her answer, which Zuria acknowledged with a single nod. However, another question formed in her mind's forefront, one she had also speculated about for years. "Do you think _she_ fears anything?" she asked quietly.

Zuria's face was overcome by a perplexed expression again. "I don't know about that. I'm not too sure any of us ever will, but..." She paused for a moment, as if cautiously stitching her next sentence together. "I have this small feeling that she fears you more than you will ever fear her." She shrugged one shoulder. "Although those are both small amounts of fear, relatively..."

Liselle furrowed her brow in confusion. "I don't understand. Why would she be scared of me?"

"Well... Aria invests a lot in you. Time, effort, her emotional attachment. She doesn't give those things easily, as everyone knows. And you, Liselle, are a rare phenomenon in her life who will never be cut off from these things, unlike any other relationship she'll probably ever have. She can't change it. It's something she really can't control, the fact that she loves you. But _you..._ " Zuria stopped again, perhaps wondering if it was wise to keep speaking her thoughts. Though she carried on. "But you, on the other hand, are more... more of a variable. You're young, and who you are—who you will become in adulthood—is yet to be seen. Of course, I think you and your mother will get along just fine for centuries to come, but there's still a chance that it may not turn out that way. Your mother keeps a lot of secrets from you. You already know that. I'm not telling you anything new. But some of these secrets are very dark, very terrible. And even Aria, as meticulous and clever as she may be, will not be able to hide everything if you decide to go looking. Secrets have a way of coming to the surface eventually, and when that happens... you might come to resent her for some of the things she's done. If that happens, Aria faces a major problem. It will not be her love that has disappeared, but _yours_. That can spell destruction if your relationship ever becomes feudal. Because, as we both know..." Zuria lifted the card she had used to defeat Liselle, then dropped it onto the monarch. "...The heiress usurps the Queen."

The maiden grew dourly silent as she watched Zuria retrieve her cards from the floor, neatly stacking them one by one into her hand. As the deck progressed from a humble few cards to its former height, Zuria began developing apprehension in her face. She was evidently thinking hard about something. Her movements slowed, drew out longer than necessary, before she parted her lips to speak without meeting Liselle's eyes.

"Don't tell her I said any of that," said Zuria, placing the final card on top of the accumulated others. The pallid eyes of the monarch stared upward from the short tower's culmination, her regal, lifeless gaze piercing through the surrounding dim light.

  **.**

  **-][-**

  **.**

The asari had been savoring the moment, the surreal sight of the mighty Aria T'Loak kneeling before her, helplessly anticipating her own death. It was the ultimate insult: a pathetic, quiet death. No glorious battle, no inferno of struggle or cataclysmic destruction to mark her passing. She would bleed out in silence, on the dismal floor of a paltry restroom in her own club, betrayed by her own administration. And after the successful decapitation of her powerful syndicate, Aria T'Loak's body would be mounted on the bright sign flickering _Afterlife_ right outside the nightclub's entrance, hoisted up dead center with limbs splayed and head hanging lifelessly forward for all to see. Her era would end at the tip of a blade, such a small instrument to silence a woman of such incredible power.

"Are you afraid?" she asked one last time, thinking that maybe, just maybe, she would receive a _yes_.

Aria gave her no such gratification. Instead, a sound began to rise up in her chest. It was painful but it could not be contained. The sound baffled the assassin, who was unable to interpret it until Aria's voice gained enough to strength to clarify it as soft, foreboding laughter. She was not afraid at all.

The assassin suddenly halted, grew stiff. She made a strained sound—nearly a grunt—which leaked through her mask. It was followed by another, this time slurred, guttural, from the depths of her throat. It was a sound of pure distress and escalating agony. And then her chest opened up; rib cage blossoming like a gruesome flower with the spectral glow of biotics dancing along its petals, on the rupturing organs, and on splintering bone, until the flare subsided. The weight of her destroyed body collapsed onto Aria, who pushed her off. She bit down on the inside of her cheek hard as the knives of pain scraped against her very marrow, but she managed to rise, fueled by harrowing anger alone.

The asari's allies—a pair of salarians—were briefly frozen in terror. Aria was not supposed to be able to stand. She was supposed to be disoriented, weak, and in far too much agony to even move. That was what they had planned for. Yet there she held herself upright, shoulders rising and falling as she fought to keep her lungs filled, doused in the remnants of their team leader, and taking her first staggering steps forward. Aria was glaring, but it was no simple glare; she was issuing them a promise of annihilation. It was not a threat. It was not a prediction. It was informative, and utterly absolute.

Fearing for their lives if they hesitated a moment longer, the salarians drew their guns and took aim. Aria brought her hand up, a wince fleeting across her features as she called upon her biotics to send one assassin flying back into the far wall, and tearing the other's gun from his grasp. The salarian still on his feet scrambled for a second firearm, but by the time he had managed to secure his fingers around it, Aria had her hands upon him. She threw him in the direction of the restroom's large mirror, and with a fearsome shout, slammed his face into its surface with all her might. A burst of cracks spread outward as she withdrew his head from the jagged crater, then smashed him into it once more. The glass pierced his mask, his face, rendering him stunned and horrifically wounded.

When the salarian she had previously thrown away recovered, he lifted his pistol again, pointing it Aria. She immediately pulled her held opponent away from the mirror, turning his body in his ally's direction as a shield. The bullets buried into his chest; Aria tossed him to the floor afterward, stepping over the dying man as she sent a vicious lash at the remaining assassin. He shouted in pain as the biotic field pierced through his light armor, anchoring into his body like talons as the field mercilessly pulled him forward against his will. For a split second he defenselessly watched Aria bringing her arm back, preparing a tremendous blow. The distance between them swiftly closed. With a roar she swung forward, voice ringing through the crimson room, and her fist, cloaked in a biotic glow, found the assassin's face. The cracking of bone and wet splitting of flesh was heard as his skull caved in, and he was sent crashing to the floor where he moved no more.

For a while Aria stood there; chest heaving, plagued by uncontrollable panting, with beads of perspiration gliding down her chilled skin that felt all too hot at once. Blood, broken glass, and bodies littered the floor around her. The fever boiling in her head sent strange, warped thoughts to the surface of her consciousness. She wanted to shout again. She wanted her voice to haunt these walls forever as a warning to all who dared challenge her. She feared not death. She had defied death, usurped death, _became_ death. And the Queen had been blessed with a long life.

But her heart labored away, growing weary from the toxins strangling its cells. And the agony had never left her, not for a moment. The phantasmal, yet eerily corporeal presence of countless javelins remained impaling her, and the room still spun in reds and black smears of corpses at her feet, glinting cracks in the mirror, broken green eyes, lurid streaks on the walls. She staggered, her shoulder falling against a stall's support before sliding to the floor in a heap. The price of utilizing biotics was presented to her, demanding payment by forcefully seizing what little remained of her strength. Recognizing that consciousness would soon leave her, Aria shakily reached up to her earpiece.

"Renaga," she gasped, "Call Havlon, we can trust him. Come find me. I'm... I'm on the usual floor... east restroom. Are you here...?"

" _I'm about a block away; what's going on?"_

"Just get... get your ass over here... fucking _arrest_ Anikot, and kill anyone else who gets in your way... Just do it..."

" _Aria? I'm on my way right now, but can you explain more? ...Aria? Aria?"_

She was drifting in and out of awareness. Waves of pain were pulling her under, drowning her lucidity. She could feel the cold floor against her cheek. The scent of fresh blood was in her nose, a familiar perfume—death's perfume. Her mind was swirling about, and her eyes were pointed directly forward, their sight oscillating between sinks coated in deep crimson light, and spans of nothingness during which she may have momentarily lost consciousness. Her lips were parted; shuddering, strained breaths and periodic, abrupt grunts of acute torment passing through them as the rest of her body trembled on its own accord. Occasionally, a limb or her abdominal muscles would convulse, instinctively withdrawing inward with the intent to assume a fetal position, but she never permitted herself to reach any resemblance of that pose. And above all other things, Aria forbade herself from closing her eyes, knowing very well that if she allowed herself such a respite, she might never open them again.

  **.**

  **-][-**

  **.**

After trudging through a few more minutes, Tevos looked up to briefly relax her strained eyes. She closed them, opened them, and blinked a few times to send away the slight ache caused by staring at screens for hours. Her gaze drifted aimlessly about her desk as she leaned forward, folding her arms upon its surface to support herself, until her eyes finally stopped on the paperweight resting on one corner. It had faithfully been there for years; years and years... She reached for it, grasping the flat-bottomed orb in her fingers and brought it closer to her face for examination. It gleamed in the dusk pouring through the windows. The globe, even after time long passed, still proudly displayed its eternal nightscape carved from volcanic glass, adorned with uncertain swirls of white and gray, and frozen in the polished sphere like drifting clouds over fields of ash.

She idly rotated the paperweight, simulating the spin of a planet. The item stored memories. Ghosts, recollections of a certain crime lord once seated in the now-empty chair in front of her desk, holding the very same orb in her hand, fathoming its aesthetic value, and then—to the councilor's dismay—repeatedly tossing it into the air. Since that moment, the orb had always reminded Tevos of Aria. The aspect of uncertainty. The guise of a miniature planet whose atmosphere was engulfed by everlasting storms, concealing whatever core it might have possessed far beneath.

It might have been her sleepy mind instigating the thought, but Tevos began to absently wonder what Aria was presently doing. However, she immediately tried to think of something else. As a general rule, entertaining thoughts about Aria T'Loak was hazardous to her health. Only negative concepts were evoked by thinking about her; death, violence, greed, conquest. How did Aria thrive under those living conditions? A life in constant turmoil, endless war? Tevos knew that Aria had deliberately chosen that life, but it still baffled her. And although her own job as asari councilor exposed to her many horrors, she had never been expected to witness them firsthand by directly _partaking_ in anything resembling what Aria did.

It was to be accepted that Aria was simply a creature of conflict. She was part of an incendiary community, a special breed of people either born into their violent culture, or those who immigrated into it as a result of an inexplicable attraction. Omega was a fortress burning with constant upheaval, and Aria T'Loak, a individual gifted with a natural, intimate understanding of war and the managing of empires, had climbed her way to very apex where she sat crowned as its indomitable Queen.

Councilor Tevos wondered how often Aria parted from her throne to personally involve herself, whether there were some things she only trusted herself to confront, and on what frequency that occurred. It was probably a rarity, as Tevos envisioned Aria as being very parsimonious with her recognition of legitimate threats needing her own intervention. She imagined Aria spending most of her days in physical leisure, speaking to people, making calls, reviewing reports and data—very much a CEO's job, as she liked to define herself, albeit a bit of an unorthodox one—and then, receiving news of something dire or deemed uncontainable by her officers. And so she would deliberately rise from her couch, bearing absolutely no vestige of apprehension or doubt in her face, and depart. Was that something people feared? What did they think hours later when she returned, quietly, calmly, leaving all to wonder what fate had befallen the poor soul who crossed her?

It had been quite a while since Tevos last seen Aria, but the lasting impression she had made still haunted her. She remembered her presence vividly. Commanding, powerful, dauntless, intelligent. How Omega must have feared her, revered her.

Tevos rose from her chair, deciding that her mind was wandering too much to complete any more work. What little that remained could be finished the next morning if she slept well enough. While preparing to leave, she spared Aria one final thought, returning to her initial conjecture of what she was doing at that moment. Probably lounging away, orchestrating her domain while surrounded by the luxuries of ascendancy, holding some sort of libation in one hand, and in the other, Omega, held securely in a proverbial iron grip.


	4. Pain and Pride

**TORUS INQUIRER** — **"Traverse Corporations Face Tremendous Charges"**

Earlier this morning, the Citadel Council announced that it is formally suing three major corporations rooted in Council space for their subsidiaries in the Attican Traverse infringing upon a wide variety of regulations. Although the finer details and resulting evidence produced by each investigation remains classified, the charges are publicly accessible.

Tensora Productions, best known for their high-quality weapon modifications and participating in the recent development of firearms that no longer require conventional ammunition, and instead rely on projecting tiny grains shaven from a metal ammunition block housed inside the weapon itself, was the first of the trio currently held before the Council's allegations. The corporation was accused of developing illegal chemical weapon modifications that cause chronic illness and debilitating biological complications in individuals who are shot but survive. They are also facing charges for weapon testing on live creatures to gauge the effects of said mods. Masin-Berot, a major supplier of salarian technology, will be present in Citadel courthouses to address charges of allegedly selling armor, programs, weapons, and explosives to violent pirate entities and known terrorist groups. And the last of the trio, Fortitude Labs, has been accused of multiple accounts of fraud in recorded shipments, tax evasion, and the forceful absorption of many smaller firms via blackmail, bribery, intimidation, and even murder.

All three corporations and their respective spokespersons have declined comment at this time, but that may change over the next days as the businesses prepare to face government prosecutors in two weeks from today. Any corporation found guilty of charges can face many possible fates, from staggering fines, imprisonment for board members and administration, to complete liquidation.

Immediately following the Council's announcement, stock market indexes throughout Council space uniformly plummeted in what many are describing as the "sharpest dive in decades". Countless investors are frantically selling their shares of the accused corporations before their prices hit all-time lows, which many expect to happen before the end of the current trading day. Although most people losing money from this incident are sympathetic toward the Council's intentions, and the resulting financial consequences which their press secretary said were "a necessary setback; a price we must all pay for unwittingly supporting the ethically bankrupt for too long", others are in an uproar over the Council neglecting to also press charges against two other prominent public companies with Traverse subsidiaries rumored to be participating in similar misconduct.

"Pluvian Technologies and Virtana are companies that should be right alongside the other prosecuted three," says Ineria T'Raen, president and founder of the Environmental Preservation Association based here on the Citadel. "There has been talk and evidence for years linking those [expletive] with terrorists, slavers, and pirates, as well as the destruction of garden worlds specifically protected by Council-decreed reservation systems. They illegally strip planets for resources, planets that might have one day been destined for sapient life! This is inexcusable and I will not forgive the Council for not bringing them to justice, because everyone knows that the only lawyers vicious enough to duel the ones from those two 'mob-companies' are the government's. It's the Council's responsibility to shut these guys down! I don't know what sort of game they're playing, but if it turns out that they're favoring Pluvian [Technologies] and Virtana because of some upper class buddy system, I'm going to raise a political storm and bring it to their [expletive] Embassies."

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Liselle and her mentor had only recently returned from a biotic training session when a small, portentous group of visitors suddenly and unexpectedly arrived at the apartment. The two were still suited up in proper commando attire, seated in the kitchen after grabbing something to drink while laughing about a throw Liselle had botched by accidentally sending a practice dummy flying over the walls of their secluded, courtyard-like spot and into the distance. What if it landed amidst a group of people, Liselle had proposed? They giggled even through the flat buzz of the doorbell, unable to avert their attention from the comical incident. As a result of their obvious preoccupation, a commando lazing around on sofas in the main sitting room tended to the door instead, fingers lying against a holstered gun at her hip in case the visitors were unfriendly.

The two asari in the kitchen only ceased their joking to listen to the commotion of words in the adjacent room. Fast speech, an urgent, concise explanation, and then, the muffled patter of feet rushing into the apartment, both swift and discordant in rhythm. The visitors passed the kitchen en route to the hallway, and Liselle, now on her feet with the intention to investigate, was exposed to a scene that made her heart descend to great fathoms. Their commando led the small troop, jogging toward the hallway while beckoning to those behind her, showing them the way. Immediately after her followed a pair of salarians, hurriedly shuffling along with as much haste as they could afford without dropping the familiar, precious cargo carried between them both.

It was Aria. Her usual ensemble had been swapped out for basic clothing articles, and she was limp, in a daze, only partially aware of her environment. When they disappeared down the hall, Liselle's eyes were wide. She instantly began to dash after them, but Zuria seized her by the arm and held her in place.

"They don't know who you are," she hissed to the struggling girl. "You can't follow them yet. I'm sorry, Liselle, but you need to stay here for now."

" _What happened to her?"_ Liselle hissed back, panic rising on her voice. "Let me go! I need to _go—_ "

"Liselle, stay here," Zuria reiterated, trying her very best to emulate Aria's commanding tones while keeping Liselle in her hand's vise. "I'm going to go see what happened, okay? I'll be back in a few minutes, I promise. I'll come get you as soon as I can, but for now, you need to stay out of sight. We can't have them suspecting who you are."

Liselle, on the verge of tears, reluctantly acquiesced with a nod.

"Stay here," her mentor iterated one last time before releasing the maiden's arm. "I'll be right back." She left the kitchen, sparing Liselle a final glance over her shoulder as if to emphasize the importance of the girl's promise, and rushed down the hallway.

Liselle was left to sit in the kitchen alone, worry darkening her features as she hushed her own breathing, straining to hear anything at all from elsewhere in the apartment. While she stagnated in ignorance, Zuria was being informed of the events that had occurred just a few hours previously.

An attempt on Aria T'Loak's life had been made with both poison and blade, and although both had failed to take her, Aria remained terribly ill. The assistant of Doctor Havlon's, who was updating Zuria, helped recover their boss from the warzone that had once been an Afterlife restroom, where she lied shaking and feverish, yet without surrendering an ounce of anger or dignity. As they lifted her away from the scattered pools of still-warm blood, the orders she gave them where slurred and initially nonsensical; something about a drink, a 'bitch with a knife', and Lieutenant Anikot. They cleverly made sense of the situation with those small bits of data, however. Lieutenant Renaga was able to clarify the significance of Anikot, whom Aria wanted apprehended, but the batarian was nowhere to be found. That setback was resolved by sending a notice up and down the chain of command—a bounty, in essence—to capture Anikot, preferably alive. As for the 'drink', poison had been slipped into Aria's glass of liquor, which was certainly the source of her current illness. The glass was found on the floor in her lounge, and was promptly bagged in hopes to identify the harmful agent. And lastly, the 'bitch with a knife', or what remained of her, was quickly discovered nearby.

Unfortunately, even after hoisting Aria's arms over their shoulders to aid her with two more pairs of legs, she was still unable to utilize her own. The pain she was under was apparently immense, for when she attempted to take several steps forward, Aria violently trembled, faltered, and breathed rapidly through her nose while her features contorted with a blend of agony and fleeting traces of delirium. Her legs and feet were lifted from the floor as well on the next attempt and they carried her out in that fashion, hasting through the club's chaos toward the nearest exit while escorted by Renaga and a few operatives.

Aria was transferred to a skycar, boarded by Havlon, Renaga, and an assistant, who immediately disembarked. Communicating with their boss during that period proved to be a difficult task, as she was mildly disoriented, continuously slipping in and out of awareness, and whenever they did manage to elicit any intelligible responses from her, they only came in the forms of 'yes' or 'no'. At one point, Aria passed out completely. She was only roused from her inert state after they had arrived at the building Havlon worked out of, where they treated Aria to the extent of their abilities. When she was once again capable of speech, they asked her for a discreet location where she could be taken to recover safely, a place only populated by people of absolute trustworthiness. After a long interval spent in quiet, grim consideration, Aria relinquished an address, albeit quite reluctantly for some undisclosed reason.

And now a bedroom in the apartment—Liselle's bedroom, coincidentally—had been commandeered by the salarian doctor, his assistant, and their patient.

Zuria looked on as they fretted over Aria, who lied semiconscious in bed, fighting the malignance in her blood while on thought-impairing, heavy painkillers. The orchestrator of the scene was Havlon, an irascible salarian of a dark gray complexion and a long thin face composed of sharp angles, dire and uncongenial in nature. He was barking orders to his assistant and even exercised his prerogative over Iaera and the commandos, telling them to carry out menial tasks such as retrieving water or fetching an additional pillow to prop up Aria with. They obeyed without question.

As promised, Zuria navigated through the busy people and returned to the kitchen to report back to Liselle with all she had learned. She found the girl where she left her, however Liselle was currently interrogating the commando sent to retrieve water. The commando only offered her a vague explanation, "Aria's sick, I need to get back to them," before dashing down the hall again. Liselle grew dejected at the lack of information, but once she saw her mentor approaching she was on her feet again, alert and already wordlessly inquiring.

"Pretend you're a commando," Zuria said to her, gesturing for her to follow. "If someone tells you to do something, do it. Otherwise, try to stay out of the way."

Liselle's silence served as her affirmation while she traveled through the apartment. Her legs felt like lead, and her chest felt constricted by anxiety. Never had anything like this happened before. This was a catastrophe reserved for nightmares, not reality, because Aria was _invincible_. But as Liselle walked right behind her mentor, keeping to one side of the hallway as to not block the traffic of other persons hurrying by, a strange sense of decay and loss pervaded her body. It was a sinking feeling, lamentation. The funeral of a preconceived notion, or one installed in her mind since early childhood: the one providing constant reassurance that no matter what happened, her mother was the most powerful individual Liselle had ever known, who would inevitably emerge as the victor in _any_ conflict, or the force solving _any_ problem, regardless of its caliber. Although Aria was still alive, this concrete principle Liselle had believed in throughout her entire life was eroding, crumbling away into a sea of misconception, of juvenile fantasy.

Aria was strong but not perpetual, no matter how much the ghosts of her youth wished that she was.

She was only permitted to stay in the same room as her mother for a few minutes, as Havlon had begun to herd everyone out save for Iaera. Before that, Liselle had sat in a lonely chair set against a wall, directly positioned within her mother's possible line of sight. She caught glimpses of her between the people ceaselessly moving around the bed, hoping to establish eye contact at least once in spite of Aria's febrile delirium. She thought she had at one point, when Aria's clouded eyes, surrounded by pools of shadow gathering in her sockets, seemed to find Liselle's for a few seconds. It was uncertain whether her mother intentionally looked at her, or whether it was by chance, but it mattered not soon enough. Aria's eyes wandered away again, casting a feverish, empty gaze elsewhere at nothing in particular.

Once banished from the room, Liselle relocated to sit beside Zuria in a guest bedroom across the hall, presently used by the commandos during their temporary stay. She sat dolefully in the open doorway, staring out into the room she no longer had access to, whose door mutually remained open. Occasionally, she would hear Havlon speaking with Iaera, or to his assistant, who would sometimes leave for a moment to carry out whatever quick errand he had been sent on. An indeterminate amount of time passed—a few hours, approximately, crossing far into the period during which Liselle normally slept—and soon, Zuria was asking her to rest. She refused.

Despite her adamant decision to remain awake, Liselle nodded off a few times as the supposed night hours passed. She was abruptly startled back into full consciousness at a loud, sudden noise. It was a shout, thoroughly confusing her and the other sleepy occupants of the room, who stumbled to their feet in search of the trouble. Another shout reached them, then another. They carried vulgar curses, rising on Aria's unmistakable voice in what could only be a fit of extreme agony. Liselle scrambled to the room, escaping Zuria's preventative hold and defying her demands that she not go. The scene awaiting her was awful; Aria was writhing, twisting about beneath the bed sheets of sterile white, stricken with a degree of bodily attrition so excruciating that her full lucidity had restored and inflamed into sheer personal torment. When Havlon drew near, she reached out and seized him by the collar, yanking him down to face her where she held him in a trembling, fearsome grip.

"You fucking do something to stop this!" she demanded of him.

"You think I haven't tried?" he replied, exhibiting irritation in place of fear. "The initial dosage of anesthetic already exceeded safe amounts! I don't care if it's worn off; if I give you the same amount again you could suffer severe side effects!"

"I don't care! _You do as I say!_ "

"Fine! You want to slip into a permanent coma? It's _your_ funeral."

Before Aria released him, her peripheral vision caught sight of a particular spectator, standing among the alerted others. She looked directly at Liselle, and this time, the maiden was certain her mother had seen her. Aria let Havlon go, but before he could insert a needle into her arm to administer more of the painkiller, she stopped him.

"Forget it," she muttered, holding his wrist at bay.

"What?"

"I can handle it," Aria said, resting back against the pillows. Her body still shuddered and twitched in obvious pain, accompanied with nausea and strain creeping into her features, making her reconsideration appear quite outlandish to onlookers and especially to her own daughter, who couldn't fathom her reasons.

Why had she done that, Liselle wondered? Had it been done in pride, in communicating to her that she still indeed had control over the situation? That she still possessed strength, and enough of it to overcome physical torture? Did she, now put in an incredibly vulnerable position for all to see, act in desperation to save what little remained of her former reputation in her daughter's perspective?

Whatever her intentions, Aria did not meet Liselle's eyes again.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

When the earliest hours of Omega's colloquially-established dawn arrived, Aria was awake and cognitively sound, having endured the worst of her affliction. Her health had not been fully restored. The sickly pale shades lingered in her flesh, and the weary darkness was still brooding beneath her eyes like the remnants of a horrible nightmare, but it had at the very least improved over the course of the arduous night.

Everyone within the apartment was present in the same bedroom, with commandos standing in a neat row along the wall containing the window. Liselle was among them. A pistol was fastened to her hip, an instrument to help serve her temporary façade. Zuria had handed it to her a few minutes earlier, saying, "Just hold onto it for now."

The time had come for Havlon to present his findings to his boss, to let her know exactly what had been done to her, how to treat the lasting ailments, and to pass on any evidence that could lead them toward silencing their enemy. "The neutralizing agents we introduced to your blood were able to spare you from the worst," Havlon began, standing at the foot of the bed Aria remained in. "If we delayed, say, about half an hour longer, you would've gone into cardiac arrest."

Aria gave no reaction.

Havlon extended a hand to his assistant, who dutifully filled it with a datapad. "Unfortunately, a significant amount of poison still remains in your body. Not enough to kill you, just enough to leave you quite ill for a few more days. Fever symptoms and fatigue, primarily. You're going to have to let it run its course. I suggest drinking plenty of water, vitamin-rich liquids, those sorts of things. No solid foods for a while, unless you want to start vomiting. You _are_ going to lose some weight because of this, so, just be prepared for that and know it's easily regained after you recover. Once you're feeling strong enough, start taking short walks around the room several times a day. Just don't overdo it." His permanently angry gaze dropped to the datapad, reviewing the information before resuming. "And as for the poison's chemical composition and origins... Well, if they were trying to kill you with it, they did a terrible job. There are countless other substances that could've killed you within minutes. This is sloppy work, if unintentional. I assume it wasn't."

"No," Aria said. "They just wanted to cripple me first. They wanted me conscious."

Liselle sorrowfully watched her mother, hearing the sheer disdain in her words. The situation was humiliating for Aria.

"Then I'm sure you want me to tell you what it was?" inquired Havlon. "Let's see... the poison was a biotoxin, produced by a carnivorous plant native to Khar'shan. The plant is locally called a _vanhis_ , known for its capability of slow movement and a stomach that can stretch to the size of an average man. Its diet normally consists of carrion; animals that become trapped and die in the marshlands it originates from. After engorging itself on a meal, the plant's stomach expands to the corresponding dimensions, often making it too bloated to move, thus an easier target for... predators, let's say. To compensate, the _vanhis_ secretes a poison from the pores in its vascular tissue along with the other byproducts of digestion. Altogether, the substance gives off a foul odor, keeping predators at bay, and those that still attempt to eat it become poisoned. The toxin itself blocks muscle tissue from absorbing adequate oxygen and nutrients, forcing a prolonged period of anaerobic respiration, which results in excruciating body-wide cramping. Aside from an accompanying immune system response, mild shock is also expected, and as I mentioned before, eventual cardiac arrest if left untreated." He strode over to Aria's side to place his datapad in front of her. "What was odd about the poison we found in your drinking glass was that it was isolated from the rest of the digestive waste it's usually found within. That means it was... purified for this purpose. Probably so you wouldn't detect it."

Aria briefly poured over the information. "After engorging itself," she hollowly read aloud, "too bloated to move…"

She was seething; Liselle could see it in the shadows of her face, the stiffness in her shoulders, on every angry breath.

After returning the datapad to Havlon, Aria addressed him again. "What else is there? Did anyone identify those people I killed?"

"If their IDs were real, they were nobodies," Havlon shrugged. "They all came from completely different districts. No abnormalities in their profiles, no affiliations with any factions, enemy or otherwise."

"They were fakes," Aria vapidly concluded. "The common street scum doesn't get that far without training and resources. And they had a very good idea about what they were doing. Is there anything else? Any word on Anikot?"

"He's gone. They're still trying to track him down."

Her displeasure further increased. "Perfect..." Just when silence had settled over the bedroom, she spoke again with eyes directed toward the window, and her paled face illuminated by the virulent warm glow. "You can go now, Havlon."

"Excellent. And now I await my paycheck," he said flatly and motioned to his assistant to follow. "I'm leaving information behind for your... _designated caretakers_ over the next few days. How to handle any possible complications. And if they still screw something up, I remain available." The salarians departed from the bedroom, the assistant burdened with the doctor's cases of medical supplies.

"Orders, ma'am?"

Aria turned in the direction of the commando who had issued the question, consequentially voicing the thoughts of all in the vicinity. "Return to your usual duties and posts as I coordinated for the remainder of this week. All of you."

They obeyed, exiting the room in an orderly line, and at their trail's end was Liselle, who stopped before she too left. The door, no longer sensing anyone in immediate proximity, automatically shut. It was the last sound heard for a long time. Liselle didn't dare speak a word. She stood motionlessly in one place, hesitating in the burning, dusky hues of the room, wondering if perhaps her mother did not want her company. Aria gave no sign of rejection or acceptance, instead choosing to continuously—and contemptuously—peer out the window without sparing her daughter a single glance. Tentatively, Liselle moved at last, taking a few careful steps toward the bed. Her mother made no reaction.

She completed her trip to Aria's side, being mindful to not intercept her line of sight, and lingered in that spot to look upon her. Her eyes were tired, a cold sweat still coated her skin, and... there was a faint line on her throat, Liselle observed. A wound. It was minuscule and already beginning to heal, but it still made her stomach twist about in dread. She reached out, lifting her hand from its idle position at her side, and brushed her fingertips against Aria's cold upper arm. It was a cautious gesture of affection, testing to make sure she wouldn't be swatted away. She wasn't, and so the action evolved into bringing her arms around Aria's neck and shoulders in a loose hug. Liselle rested her cheek against the top of her mother's head, implementing her best efforts to convey all her concerns without having to speak.

"Please don't touch me," Aria said distantly. "I'm angry right now."

Liselle released her. The words stung, but at least Aria had permitted the gesture for a few seconds, indicating that she had not completely condemned it. The maiden stepped away, venturing over to the window her mother was still gazing through, and stood beside one edge of its wide frame. She joined Aria in donating her attention to the metal cities, keeping her voice hushed when deciding to speak. "You really have no idea who's doing this?"

"No," Aria replied, then briefly paused to consider whether divulging her daughter in any details was a wise decision. "But it's someone very much below our radar. And yet, they're obviously professionals."

The girl gave a solemn nod, growing pensive as she searched her mind for other possible explanations. "Do you think it's Asari High Command? I've been reading on the extranet about them being very unhappy with you. They think that drug Lucen Dust is coming from Omega."

Aria audibly exhaled. "Government entities," she said, "even a group as shady and powerful as Asari High Command, wouldn't bother with spite. They would never attack us with such personal investments. No. They would've done a clean, quick job. If it was them… I would've known about it before anything even happened. I have eyes there." She became thoughtful. "I need better investigation teams. If disloyalty in my forces runs deeper than this, I need to put more people out there I know I can trust."

Liselle said nothing for a long while, somewhat surprised that her mother was musing aloud for her to hear. Perhaps Aria's brush with death had accentuated the value in having people with whom she could discuss sensitive information. The numbers of such people were rapidly dwindling, it seemed. Liselle looked out at Omega, scouring its hostile alleys and spires for a solution, just a fragment of a clue or a way to defend themselves. But the station was vast and chaotic. There were innumerable hiding places for enemy malcontents to crawl into and operate from. How could Aria ever hope to keep watch over them all? Even for someone so powerful, it was an impossible feat. Her eyes and ears stationed throughout Omega had a distinct job: to report anything they found to be suspicious or detrimental to her interests, but that in itself was the problem. Their field of vision was wide, unfocused, scanning the entire population for aberrance, but never seeking anything in particular. To an investigator with a specific target or goal, the smallest detail with relevance to their objective could be pursued at once, but to a general informant, that same detail may not have contained enough significance to even be reported in the first place. Finding a particular group of people within Omega's turmoil was going to require devotion, surgical precision, and most importantly, people who could be depended on to supply Aria with legitimate intelligence.

She turned away from the window at last, straightening out her posture as much as she could, and bravely said, "Let me help."

For the first time in hours, Aria's unyieldingly ireful expression morphed into something else; perplexity, manifesting through a tiny adjustment to the crease in her brow. "What did you say?"

Liselle maintained her audacity. "Let me help you."

"Help?" Aria repeated as if she had miraculously forgot the definition of the word, or what Liselle could have possibly meant by it. "How would you _help?_ "

"Put me on one of those investigation teams."

Liselle's strange proposal, coupled with her sudden involvement in their topic of discussion, caused Aria's skepticism to persist. "What, so you can go get yourself killed on the first day?" Aria shook her head. "You have no idea what the lower districts are like. My answer is no."

The maiden bristled. When Aria gave an answer, it was expected to be received as a final, non-negotiable decree that would be abided by all relevant parties. She had learned to accept her mother's orders over time, and rarely ever challenged her anymore, but this circumstance was different. A fight was necessary. This decision was massive, one Liselle may have made impetuously, but once the words had left her heart on the vessel of her lips, the girl abruptly became willing to aggressively defend them at all costs. _She wanted to help_. There was so much imbued in that statement—her love for her mother, her desire to finally witness the world she had grown up in but never saw, and the pure fact that this decision, despite all its risks and dangers, was _her own_ decision. Not her mother's, not anymore. Every aspect of Liselle's life had been guided and controlled by Aria, but no more, _no more_. And should her own choice bring harm unto herself, so be it, she resolved.

Liselle opened her mouth, letting her argument spill forth, "Mother, some of your closest allies are betraying you, trying to take Omega from you. Sounds a little like what you once did a long time ago to someone else."

She certainly had Aria's attention, at least. Liselle continued, "You don't know who's going to dissent next. What if your teams feed you false information? What if they try to kill you again...?" She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Mother, you _know_ you can trust me. I may not be a seasoned mercenary, but you can _trust_ me. How much is that worth? Anyone can learn how to fight, but not everyone will be loyal to you forever."

"Most _are_ loyal to me," Aria immediately replied. "This incident and the people involved was unique. My syndicate isn't falling apart; it's experiencing some _infections_ of disloyalty, and it can be remedied." With a sharp grimace flashing across her features, Aria adjusted her position in the bed. "The majority sees how much they profit from working for me. I fucking _spoil_ them compared to what goes on under other leaderships. I'm not a fool, Liselle. A few power-hungry idiots deciding to go traitor isn't going to topple my authority. There are many people that can be relied on for this task, people with experience and skills. You lack in that department, and so my answer stands."

"You're confident that you know some people who can be trusted," said Liselle, hands reflexively curling into fists, "but are you sure you aren't confusing confidence with pride and arrogance?"

"Don't you _ever_ speak to me that way again."

Liselle almost flinched at her tone. Anyone else would have shrunk beneath the vicious warning in terror, never to cross Aria in that manner again, but Liselle held fast. But before she could formulate any sort of rebuttal, her mother resumed first.

"I will not be putting my own daughter—a _child—_ out on these streets to die." Aria sounded as severe as death. "You've lived your entire life sheltered from harm until _I_ deem you ready enough to be introduced to this world. Some people are predisposed to do well here, but you're not one of them. You need more time."

A tight-lipped frown was roused from the maiden. "How do you know that?" she demanded. "Did you just... decide that? Just projected whatever you wanted onto me?"

Aria moved. She brought her legs over the side of the bed, placing her feet onto the floor, and with a fierce glare effacing any pain it might have caused her, she rose. Although Liselle hadn't previously diminished before her mother's terrifying stature, she was dangerously close to doing so now. Even while clearly ill, shaky, and weakened, Aria's power of intimidation remained dauntingly intact. "Do you know why I don't want you out there?" she asked Liselle while approaching her. "It's because we're not the same. You're not going to be able to just show up and take Omega by storm _—_ you're going to get _killed_. You've seen vids, you've read about Omega, so you think you know what you're getting into, but you don't. It's different. It's real now. And what if you find out too late that you can't handle it? Then what, Liselle? You want to die in your fifties?"

Liselle was rendered silent. She watched her mother for a while, realizing just how much she despised the idea of having Liselle involved. The ultimate indication of that was her choice to argue with her. It wasn't a usual case of _no_ , followed by ignoring any ensuing complaints or objections. This time, Aria wanted Liselle to _understand_. To communicate to her daughter how much the notion of her death disturbed her. But this wasn't solely about Aria anymore.

"You say you care about me," Liselle said absently, sounding faintly hurt while looking away, "but you hardly even speak to me. You never let me do anything on my own. You... you keep me here so nothing bad will happen. So _you_ won't hurt if something does." Liselle had never before used such an accusing tone when speaking to Aria. She nearly frightened herself. "This is about _you_ , not me. Would you really keep me in a cage for a hundred more years, just to protect yourself from suffering if something happened? So I'm just supposed to stay here in purgatory until you finally decide to let me out? I'm not allowed to have a life of my own, to go out and experience things, to be happy, just to keep _your_ feelings safe?"

Her mother said nothing, completely unrevealing of any thoughts that might have been rushing through her mind. Save for the look in her eyes. There was a frightening aspect about them, an intensity, a terrible vigilance. For a moment, Liselle was certain that Aria was going to hit her. She didn't.

"Mother," Liselle said quietly, "I'm _tired_ of being here. I _want_ to do this. I can handle it. I've had years of biotic training, and if... if something happens where I need to defend myself, I can send people flying. Just ask Zuria."

Her final persuasive point did little to change Aria's contemplative state. Her hands were on her hips, limbs rigid with their constant fight against exhaustion, and she had turned back toward the window. Aria was deep in thought, struggling with herself. Eventually she met her daughter's eyes again, reoriented her torso to properly face her, and said, "You will be collaborating with two of the best, most trusted operatives I'll be selecting for this mission, and I already have an idea regarding who they'll be. They're adept in combat, very intelligent, and they've proven themselves tremendously loyal thus far. Keep up with them, be wary of them, and learn from them."

The lack of mirth in her mother's gaze could not defeat Liselle's developing smile, but she immediately smothered it back down as to not appear like an overeager child, which might have made Aria reconsider. Instead of making an obvious exhibition of her alacrity, Liselle moved toward her mother and calmly brought her arms around her in an embrace, a thankful message containing all her appreciation and assurance that Aria's decision was not unwise.

Initially, Aria did not respond. Liselle wondered if she was indeed reevaluating her choice, but her worries were dismissed when Aria's arms rose from her sides to return the gesture despite the physical discomfort, and despite whatever mistake she could have been making. Aria hadn't noticed it prior, but while holding her daughter, she abruptly became aware of the pistol at her belt. The sight sent illness to the very marrow in her bones.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

The tempest following the controversial lawsuit announced that morning had Councilor Tevos—and therefore her secretary and other aides as well—thoroughly swamped in the backlash and concerns of other politicians, the media, or simply anyone capable of pressuring her. Yes, it was certainly going to dent the economy, but not to an extent that would bring about any sort of recession. They had already calculated for that possibility. At the worst, some wealthy investors might go bankrupt if the accused corporations were liquidated, as all three had previously accumulated so many arcane layers of misconduct and immorally acquired research and developments that it was hard to see any resolution more appropriate than shutting them down entirely. Regardless of the outcome, the mere fact that the corporations were facing charges in the first place had elicited a steadily-brewing anxiety over all shareholders. They were already abandoning their ships, fearing the prospect of sinking along with them. They could see that the damage was irreversible.

These corporations had been large and profitable. Massive players in their respective markets. But their horrendous practices, finally exposed by the Council's Spectres (who had, oddly enough, essentially _stumbled_ upon mountains of incriminating evidence during their investigations of an entirely different matter), could not go without proper retribution. Of course, choosing to spare the two most powerful of the five titans was not precisely the most altruistic action the Council had ever taken, but it was necessary. If they had, a recession could have easily been triggered. The Council's finalized plan, after much deliberation and accounting for near-certainty that the corporations would _never_ be able to dodge the amount of evidence they had, involved keeping the most gargantuan corporations of the group afloat until new companies (hopefully ones that would adhere to their laws) filled the bereaved spots in the injured economy. When that finally happened, and if the two malevolent corporations remained, they could be charged without having to endanger the prosperity of Council space as a whole.

That was their preparation for the worst case scenario, which was also, unfortunately, the most likely one. The decision did not sit well with Tevos, but nor did many others she had been forced to make in the past. As always, it had been done with the 'greater good' in mind; a presented choice between two evils, the selection of the lesser, and praying that an accumulation of such choices would result in overall, measurable improvement.

When the councilor's intercom on her desk chimed, her secretary's statement made her close her eyes in dismay, _"Councilor, you're getting a long-distance vid comm call. It's coming from Omega. It's Aria T'Loak."_

_Wonderful_ , Tevos thought dryly. Aria's name was a universal omen of conflict and difficulty, and the asari councilor had quite enough of that for one day, or the week for that matter. "Has she given any specifics? What it regards?"

" _None ma'am, aside from it being marked as private and urgent. Do you want me to patch her through to the comm room down the hall? It's available."_

Tevos sighed, dutifully accepting her fate. Aria's request for conference would be granted, it seemed, for it would be irresponsible to ignore whatever she had to say. "Yes, please do so," said Tevos. She rose from her chair, abandoned her desk, and left her office.

She idly wondered what Aria could possibly want this time as she traveled down the Embassy's corridors. After pausing to politely greet a few people she passed by during the short trip, she reached the door of her destination, pressed her hand to the lock, and was permitted access.

When she entered in the comm room and activated the hologram console, particles of light arranged themselves into a familiar shape, but something was... off. Aria was seated like she often was whenever they spoke, but her usual jacket was gone, and so was her corset, replaced by a plain undershirt. It left her shoulders and arms unusually visible, but everything else about her attire remained loyal to her inveterate preferences; dark pants, the same boots. The peculiarities did not end there, however. Her posture was different. She was listless, deprived of the normal vigor in her limbs. Overall, Aria appeared as though she had unceremoniously slumped down onto a couch in whatever room she was transmitting from, and had refused to adjust her position thenceforth.

The councilor, nonplussed by Aria's strange presentation, was unable to open their discussion, not even with the usual greeting. Aria supplied it instead.

_"Hello, Councilor. You kept me waiting."_

Tevos remained silent for another instant, still trying to make sense of Aria's reason for allowing herself to appear in such a nonprofessional manner. It was extremely uncharacteristic of her. Aria valued her image dearly, and for her to deign to resembling someone who had just rolled out of bed was incredibly outlandish. Tevos didn't know what to make of it, but the more she speculated, the more she wondered if Aria's message truly was exigent, thus influencing her lack of personal preparation. The councilor gently cleared her throat. "I do hope this call truly warranted a high-priority flag, Aria," she said to her. "I was previously in the middle of other important correspondences."

_"Don't give me that shit,"_ Aria nearly sneered. _"Anything I have to say to you is more important than whatever bureaucratic fucking around you're doing."_

Her hostility immediately elicited a mutual response. "Excuse me, but just what possessed you to address me like that? I believe it was _you_ requesting _my_ audience, not the other way around. And so I should remind you that I have no obligation to speak with you, especially if you expect me to tolerate verbal attacks. I _will_ terminate this call if you can't mind yourself properly."

The only motion Aria made was a slight cant of the head. _"My verbal attacks are completely called for. The Council is just the heartthrob of the galaxy today, isn't it? You do know what I'm referring to, don't you?"_

Tevos was filled with dissatisfaction. Even Aria had jumped onto the waves of anger directed toward the Council, and for reasons she certainly had an inkling about, but did not want to confirm. She had to confront the issue sooner or later, however. After pinching the bridge of her nose for a few seconds in an attempt to keep a developing headache at bay, she lowered her hand, exhaled, and spoke to the patiently-awaiting Aria, "You're obviously just as displeased at today's decision as many others of business-inclined ilk have proven to be, and my suspicions of why that is so in your case... presents a troubling explanation."

_"I heard about it just a few hours ago,"_ Aria said, voice becoming duplicitously friendly for the duration of her recount. _"And I thought to myself, 'what an unfortunate turn of events, that after months of careful planning and arrangements, three massive corporations—trophy prizes of my current conquests, to be specific—I've finally secured... connections to... are suddenly facing an onslaught of damning charges at the whims of a few fucking councilors'. Upon my assessment of the situation, and after doing some quick arithmetic, I concluded that by the end of litigation I should expect to lose roughly two hundred million credits. So naturally I had a choice to make: drop my investments like most of the other panicking shareholders and recover whatever I could, or wait out the storm in hopes that the companies would survive and eventually bounce back. Would you like to know what I decided to do?"_

The councilor was already unhappy with Aria for supporting businesses so deficient in morality, but she humored her. "What did you do?" she blandly asked.

_"I kept half of it."_

"Why?"

_"Because I know a certain councilor who can influence the outcome of all this."_

Tevos was unable to prevent a short, amused breath from leaving her lips. "You jest. You don't honestly believe that I would absolve these corporations for all the crimes they've committed. And certainly not in some petty favor done for someone who does not even care about the regions I serve."

_"Favors are for the naïve,"_ Aria said dismissively. _"Their rate of repayment is directly proportional to one's sense of honor, and you can guess how that usually plays out here. No, I have a proposition for you, Councilor. You may find it interesting. Actually, I acquired knowledge of this just before I found out about the mishap we've been discussing. I was originally going to inform you free of charge—out of the generosity of my heart—but you pissed me off. So now I'm putting a price on it. This is how it'll work: you keep those corporations from dying, and I'll tell you who's smuggling the Lucen Dust."_

The councilor donned a look of incredulity. "You found out?"

_"I did. And you can find out too if you accept my offer."_

"Aria, it's insulting that you see me as a bribable person," Tevos shook her head. "I'm afraid I must wholeheartedly reject your offer, not only because it violates my personal integrity, but also because the entire worth of your information comes from the fact that you know something earlier than I will. Meaning, I will eventually obtain the same information as well, possibly sooner than one would expect. And so your offer has little value in comparison to what you're requesting of me."

_"I see the incorruptible asari councilor hasn't changed,"_ said Aria. A hint of sarcasm was detected in her tone. _"So righteous... so fair and on the side of justice. So noble and infallible, like the way the Council judges the businesses from the Attican Traverse. Subjecting them to your imperial regulations, and yet when pirates and slavers show up to raid their worlds... protection is nowhere in sight. You own them, but you don't care about them."_

Tevos became rigid. "Oh, that is quite rich. Are you trying to say that you treat Omega with more fairness than we treat our people? That your modes of 'protection' surpass the Council's in efficiency?"

_"They do, as a matter of fact. Call it extortion if you want, which I'm sure will be your knee-jerk reaction, but I protect my territories. In my districts, sending a little payment my way will get you more guards stationed around your residence or business. In the Attican Traverse, sending money back into the Council Space economy will get you... nothing. If anything is extortion, it's that. Yet I remain more villainous for proposing a questionable transaction. You know, Tevos..."_ Aria paused, looking away for a moment, unconsciously communicating her mounting displeasure. _"...I used to like you."_ She brought her eyes back to the councilor. _"After talking to you for a while, I began to think that you were a lot different than the other politicians. And maybe you were. But it seems you've changed, and went back to viewing me as some sort of belligerent drunk mob boss."_

"You're already belligerent without even requiring intoxication," Tevos said coldly, but instantly regretted it. The councilor had done nothing to placate the situation; rather, she had only inflamed it. Aria was glaring at her, fuming. "Listen to me, Aria," Tevos began anew, hoping to amend her impulsive retaliation, "there are some things I cannot change. You of all people should realize that. You of all people recognize times when your own intervention is not enough to alter well-established precepts or the like. The same holds for the Attican Traverse. We cannot afford to risk military presence in such proximity to the Terminus Systems not because we desire to take advantage of the Traverse or to cut corners in expenditures. We are absent from that region because the risk of war is _immense_. We are constantly faced with that choice, Aria. To endure the occasional raid, or to perhaps enter all-out war. If you think I've changed since our first meeting, it is only because I'm intimately versed in these matters. I know what goes on in this galaxy, and though it often troubles me, I must continue making decisions to the best of my ability. That is all I can do. That is all anyone can do. And you, Aria... you are still aggressive, selfish, and arrogant. And although I detest much of what you do and say at times, I still always seem to find myself defending you."

Aria, who had not made any major adjustments to her position since the beginning of their conversation, moved her arm a tad. Something strange fleeted across her face, but Tevos was too preoccupied with considering the implications of her statement to pay it much heed.

"You'll find more mercy in myself than you would in any others within the Embassies, that is," clarified the councilor. "Let it be understood that I have no quarrel with you, Aria. I did not knowingly attack your 'investments', nor am I refusing to help you out of spite. Omega is still under heavy scrutiny by the Citadel, and the last thing I want to do is agitate relations. The most I could ever give you regarding the litigation is the possibility of eviscerating the corporations of their current administration and leaving them to sort through the wreckage. Even if I desired to do to more for them I probably couldn't. Do we still have peace?"

_"Sure,"_ said Aria, seeming to accept the councilor's explanation and offer, albeit with some disdain. _"But let me make it clear that I'm not going to give up this intel about the Lucen Dust without gaining anything from it. Either you trade me something else or wait for your incompetent Spectres to... wait for them to figure it out themselves."_

Tevos nodded, but paused when she noticed yet another curiosity. Aria sounded tired, nearly breathless, especially when she had fallen victim to a brief hiatus in the middle of a sentence.

_"You might find yourself in need of the intel soon enough... so prepare for that. Have something good ready for me just in case that happens. Your little Council is in the middle of a storm, from what I've been hearing. Issues regarding the turian councilor... accusations of nepotism, right? And now you're supposedly favoring certain corporations. You might need all the help you can get to fix your reputation..."_

There it was again. The same breathless, enervated aspect, as if just talking was beginning to exhaust her; as if words were preventing her from properly filling her lungs. Perplexed, Tevos issued a pertinent question, "Aria, why do you sound short of breath?"

Aria was silent for a while, seriously contemplating her reply. _"I'm ill."_

"Ill?" Tevos repeated. It certainly suited all the clues the councilor had gathered. "Well I suppose that hinders your affairs, especially with everything currently happening on Omega."

_"What do you know about that?"_

"My _incompetent_ Spectres told me," Tevos began, satisfied with the frown appearing on Aria's face, "that your administration was under attack. They've also heard whispers among your many districts. Words of discontent, originating primarily from the lower class. The ignored. Some have been speaking vehemently against you, so I'm sure that's causing you a degree of trouble."

Aria appeared pensive, and what Tevos interpreted as concerned. It was an austere expression, suspending over a few seconds spent without uttering a single word. At its end, Aria lifted a hand to her face, veiling her eyes before dragging it down over her features in a distinctly weary motion. She was tense, mildly distressed, and... in discomfort.

"Aria, are you... in pain?" Tevos asked her.

She was looking away now, and without meeting the councilor's eyes again, flatly replied, _"Yes."_

"...Emotional pain? This news disturbs you?"

_"It's physical."_

Tevos was taken aback. "That ill, are you?" she inquired, a hint of legitimate concern leaking through her tone. For Aria to actually admit to being in pain was already unusual, but for it to be affecting her ability to speak in any way was unnerving.

_"I was poisoned."_

This time, Councilor Tevos was rendered completely silent. She stared at Aria's hologram, studying the transparent representation of her face for clarification, for an explanation about how such a thing could have come to pass. Aria was severe, leering at her with pride to assert her clout despite her vulnerability. She was _daring_ Tevos to ridicule the convalescent, to mock her for being careless, but the councilor harbored no such vindictive ambitions.

She knew Aria did not _ever_ want to be pitied, but Tevos couldn't help but feel sorry for her. Just how much pain was Aria presently in, and how hard had she been trying to conceal it from Tevos? For her composed pretense to have noticeably faltered, it must have been awful. Compassion was permeating the councilor's heart, as well as tiny hopes that Aria would soon regain her health. But more than anything, Tevos felt a reflexive pang of fear. For someone to have almost successfully taken Aria T'Loak's life... It was very troubling. "Should I let you rest, then?" she tentatively asked.

Aria briefly considered, then responded with a simple, _"Yes."_

"Very well," said Tevos, suddenly finding it difficult to keep her voice within its usual range of volume. "Shall I contact you again in the near future?"

_"Why?"_ Aria's tone was one of suspicion.

"Well... given the fact that you and I serve as the main proponents of peace between Omega and the Citadel, I have a large investment in keeping you alive. If your almost-assailants were to rise in your place, stability might become threatened. It's in my utmost interest to help preserve you." When Tevos finished her elaboration, she maintained a highly professional front. Their relationship was, after all, founded upon mutually beneficial agreements. They were a mechanism designed to preserve concord between their territories. Tentative allies and nothing more.

_"I'll contact you,"_ Aria said, emphasizing the reversal of their roles.

After the councilor gave an affirming nod, Aria disconnected, leaving Tevos alone in the comm room to reflect on what had occurred. For some reason, Aria had not obscured the nature of her illness with lies, and instead decided to reveal the truth to Tevos. But for what purpose? What did Aria gain by informing Tevos of her near-death experience? She hadn't appeared stronger or more in-control; on the contrary, she had given Tevos access to what could have been her lowest, weakest point in many, many years. And yet, while she awaited the councilor's reaction and judgement, Aria had proudly tilted her chin upward, steeled her features, and boldly braced herself to endure the potential repercussions.

The more Tevos speculated, the more it became apparent that Aria had made another calculated investment. Tevos was one of her most powerful allies (if not _the_ most powerful), and Aria had recognized the necessity of only having trustworthy people aware of _certain events_ transpiring on Omega. In essence, Aria had subtly insinuated that she might need help.

As Councilor Tevos exited the comm room, she continued to ponder on one final point. What had caused Aria more pain; the toxin ravaging her body, or reluctantly swallowing her pride?

Now within the immaculate corridors of the Embassies again, she crossed a short, low bridge over a small well-lit area with exuberantly growing plants beneath. After she had traversed the wide platform, someone rounded the corner heading in her direction, seeming entranced with whatever information was being displayed by the datapad in their hand. Tevos came to a gradual halt, awaiting their notice. However, when they passed her without a word or so much as an upward glance, Tevos folded her hands behind her back and cleared her throat.

The distracted asari immediately turned around, awareness lighting her eyes. "Oh, Tevos, I didn't see you." She approached her.

The councilor gave a warm smile. "What has you so preoccupied, Irissa?"

Irissa did not return the smile. Instead, she appeared annoyed and grim. "Have you been reading these unsubstantiated aspersions circulating the media and the extranet?"

"Tabloids, you mean," Tevos said humorlessly. "No, I haven't been reading them, and you shouldn't be either."

"Well someone has to," said her friend, shaking her head at the datapad.

"Yes, and we have plenty of lawyers tasked with detecting and addressing libel. You needn't burden yourself with their jobs."

"They may have made me an ambassador," Irissa said, looking up to meet her friend's eyes, "but I'm still the best lawyer the Citadel ever saw. Better than you, Tevos. You were _awful_ at it; I'm glad you jumped into politics at the first available chance. You would have suffered greatly."

Tevos raised a brow as she began to accompany Irissa toward wherever her destination lied. They crossed over the bridge again. "Well what do you suppose crippled me as a lawyer and uplifted me as a politician?"

"You, my friend," answered Irissa, "are not ruthless enough. However, as a politician it quickly became evident that you have an insufferable ability to make people fall in love with you just by smiling. Do you realize how valuable that is in your occupation? A good image? Everyone fell in love with your mild temperament and personal conservatism. It all made you mysterious. Combine that with your family history and you were like royalty. You were the sweetheart of asari space. Grace, success, and all their other vain requisites for our elected public officials."

The councilor paused, her steps coming to a stop. Irissa stopped as well, confused by the halt. "Again... you insult me," Tevos said, words disconcerted, quiet, and highly reflective.

"I insult you? I thought I was flattering you."

"You propose that the reason I hold my position is a result of superficial traits rather than my aptitudes and competency as a leader. As if I only stand as councilor because I was the product of... good breeding, and unearned circumstance. You spoke similarly during the turian councilor's ceremony."

"Tevos, I didn't mean anything negative by it," Irissa said. "I was only... making observations."

"You truly are a fantastic lawyer, Irissa," Tevos said, although lacking enough inflection to be considered an attack. It was more so a doleful remark. She began to turn back in the direction of her office.

Irissa gently grasped her arm, recapturing her attention. "Hold on, don't you go running off without at least allowing me to explain myself. Listen, I'm sorry for saying things that might not have sat well with you, and although I'm fairly certain there's a lot of truth in them, I never once commented on your competency as a councilor. Being elected with the help of frivolous factors acting in your favor, and turning out to be a good councilor are not mutually exclusive of each other. So what if you had an advantage? You had a lot of other things going for you as well. You're well-spoken, patient, and reasonable. You're a _wonderful_ councilor, Tevos. I feel privileged to be your friend."

Tevos became contemplative for a while, regarding Irissa warily, but amicably. She ultimately decided to accept her explanation and praise. "I am simply... _disturbed_ by the notion of being a figurehead," she said. "That all of this—the product of my entire life up until this point—was generated by the whims of matriarchs, and not by my own accomplishments. I am not a puppet, a novelty, or some cosmetic installation to help the asari further their reputation amongst other species. I am _not_ an item. I am the most powerful asari official in inter-species affairs."

Her friend released her limb, affording Tevos a smile. "It's always a treat to see you assert yourself, Tevos. Albeit at your own expense. But I agree with you. Let's say you _were_ elected to councilor based on your background. How does that matter now? It doesn't. If Asari High Command, the matriarchs, or whoever wanted a figurehead to manipulate they should have chose differently. And if you were only a strategic, superficial installment of questionable merit—" Irissa showed Tevos her datapad, giving her the sight of a headline reading _Council Protecting Investments of Terminus Space Pirates,_ "—these gutter press people probably would've been able to acquire substantial material to produce caricatures of less outright _absurdity_."


	5. To Be Family

Aria remained in the apartment for approximately three days, imprisoned by poor health and pain hooking into her muscles like a thorny snare during every moment of exertion, only digging deeper the fiercer she fought against it. Her new lifestyle was, as predicted by Doctor Havlon, unbearably sedentary.

It was degrading, being unable to fend for herself. When no one was present, sometimes Aria would glove her forearm in a pulsing sheath of biotics just to reaffirm that she would still be able to generate her natural defense if the situation warranted, but assurance taxed her greatly. When the glow vanished from her flesh the contents of her skull would swirl nauseously, a cold sweat would bead on her brow, and she would recline against her pillows with closed eyes to wait out the body-wide weakness.

Leaving bed would span an epoch. The technique she had developed, when she felt up to it, entailed cupping her hands beneath her knees and manually lifting her legs over the edge of the mattress, touching her feet to the floor, and carefully rising without forcing altitude upon her upper body too quickly. In addition, her excursions could only last so long before her stamina drained and raw pain filled the void.

Her most pragmatic—thus most favorable—solution had been the commandos. With their aid Aria regained some much-missed mobility. When she needed to venture beyond her usual range of several meters, she would summon them to her bedside, and they would promptly assemble to provide their arms and shoulders to their Queen, who would place her weight on them and be lifted to her feet. Unyieldingly secure was their hold around her waist as they'd walk with her down the hall, to comm rooms during the quietest hours of the day, and worst of all, to the bathroom where they'd need to undress her before she could bathe, and dress her again afterward.

While the commandos were more than happy to help their beloved leader in a time where she relied upon them to remain functional, Aria was not so pleased. Always did her gaze dart to their hands, suspiciously watching for signs of malicious intent. She was so on edge that even the slightest flicker of biotics would have set her off like a bomb.

It never happened.

Then she was naked, her feverish skin shuddering sensitively against the chill before they'd help lower her into a warmly-drawn bath. During that interval, when hands clasped at her forearms and when there was an arm strongly wrapped around her shins, Aria would be pierced by lightning-swift inspiration of what she could possibly do in her defense if misfortune struck. She would've twisted abruptly, erupting outward with an intense flare of energy so bright and sudden it would instantly incapacitate them, but then she would be on the floor after smacking down hard on her spine, and would lie there potentially wounded in addition to the fatiguing agony she'd suffer for using her biotics.

They never hurt her, not once. They couldn't fathom it.

Rather, they were gentle and considerate; always offering more, always sensitive to every detail and frown on Aria's lips or the creases in her brow, however shallow they may have been.

After fishing Aria from the bath, every apparent droplet of water on her body would be dried with the best set of towels in the building before guiding her into fresh clean clothes. Later, they'd sit her on a comfortable chair and massage her limbs with a body lotion to assist her circulation while it was pitted against the compounded effects of the lingering biotoxin and lack of proper exercise. And then they'd return her to bed. Drawing the new set of sheets back to place her beneath them, paying extra heed to the delicate manner in which they'd rest her tired head back against the pillows, and standing devotedly at her side until dismissed.

On the second day of her convalescence, Aria ordered her commandos to aid her in something particular. As before they helped her through her morning routine, but this time the clothes they were to pull over her body were of her usual attire. It required time and direction to successfully navigate the belts and straps, but soon Aria appeared herself again, minus the increased darkness beneath her eyes.

They brought her to the comm room and set her up at the console, ensuring there was a sturdy surface for her to lean on while standing for conversation, and to catch her if she faltered. Against their preference the commandos were ordered to give Aria privacy, and they evacuated at once as a conference call was placed.

Aria breathed, slowly and steadily, banishing her discomfort from reality as two images assembled in the console's projector.

They were the masters of the two wealthiest organization still existing from Omega, allowed to persist by the thin threads of Aria's generosity, and her lack of projected profit from taking them just yet. A tentative three-way understanding endowed them with the ability to negotiate plans to overcome surfacing rivals, but it was known implicitly and irrefutably, that Aria was to be ultimately appeased by the end of such talks. She presumed they obeyed for the fact that their triad had once been comprised of four, some years previously.

With her virtually in the comm room was Sahra Parem Igrahal, an aged batarian woman of the Mazat District. She was the hub of batarian connections on Omega, facilitated through her highly professional businesses and impressive aptitude for profiteering. Aria regarded her most favorably. She had been an excellent ally for decades, lending her the leaders of the infamous Dar'nerah pirate fleet amongst countless endorsements and annual gifts of tobacco shipments, strong booze, and mercenaries. Even through the waves of light that depicted her, Aria could see the gaudy gleam of many jewelry items on Parem Igrahal's hands and forearms, and finely-woven shoulder scarves that shimmered like liquid.

The second hologram was Drialus Lorhan, the middle-aged turian man with the false hand and eye, lost to some old forgotten skirmish which just might've inspired his strange aversion toward traditional Omegan warfare. He was disgustingly wealthy, but he was also spineless. He had made his fortunes exclusively through smart smuggling tactics and outperformed competitors through information. But he always operated at a distance, too fearful of bloody conflict to confront syndicates like Aria's, just waiting to swallow his up. Lorhan preferred to cloak himself in mystery, making few appearances and even fewer excursions beyond the walls of his tower.

"You've heard what's happening," Aria opened. Context wasn't necessary. "I know you're aware."

Uncertain silence was her answer, initially, until Parem Igrahal replied, _"It would have been quite difficult for you to conceal. It's terrible, what happened to Olat. I knew him since he was just a boy, trying to fit into his father's shoulder guards. Yes, we are... vividly aware of what is happening. And concerned that it is not isolated."_

"And yet you've suffered nothing, at least this far?"

_"Nothing,"_ Lorhan concurred, his flanging voice arriving even more graveled through the light audio distortion. _"We are just as bewildered."_

By their expressions, Aria believed they shared the same thought. Why approach Omega's deadliest syndicate first, while much easier targets lied vulnerable to acquisition? And why immediately go after the station's leadership? Organizations on Omega, no matter how formidable, did not approach those in power without first toppling what lied below. Whenever tradition was forsaken, there would be no respect, no fear, no _right_ in the eyes of Omega's people, who would usually remove the new regime sooner or later. Forcefully.

Aria knew this well. It was why taking Omega for herself had been such a painstakingly long and meticulous affair, because she was interested in a secure, long-lasting reign, not the measly handful of years spared for those who lacked the dedication to properly amass their resources and establish complex networks before dealing the final blow. So it made little sense, when comparing the cunning finesse of the enemy's assassinations to what seemed to be a total absence of long-term plan.

But the fact that subversion was not _apparent_ was what chilled them. These peculiar circumstances introduced the possibility of thorough infiltration of ranks, and the enemy was just waiting for the most opportune moment to pull the rug out from beneath their feet and claim Omega's throne. Which was _precisely_ how Aria herself rose to power a century ago.

Their lengthy pause expired when Igrahal made an offer. _"I can lend you mercs, if and when you need them. In the meantime, Mazat will be sure to honor your name against those who would defame you."_

That would have to suffice, thought Aria. Igrahal had always been excessively parsimonious with her assets, even with Aria looming over her. But Aria only needed a token, something to keep within her sights a little white flag rising above their organizations, pledging obsequiousness until Aria's troubles had been resolved. Resistance would only rouse distrust, and distrust was a prelude to future complications. Aria now turned expectantly to Lorhan, who canted his head and sighed almost inaudibly.

_"I've given you arms and agents,"_ he said. _"I've given you cars. Routes. Names."_

Aria stared at him hard, channeling the steadily growing pain in her legs into her aspect of supreme authority.

_"...And I can give you more,"_ Lorhan conceded. _"I have... recently procured some developmental comms programs used by STG forces. They continuously cycle a series of encryption keys needed to access transmissions, so the job of any prospective eavesdroppers is complicated tenfold. Your specialists can tamper with it and customize it to suit your needs."_

That too would have to suffice.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

While Aria may have detested her period of illness, her daughter managed to salvage some vestige of goodness within those days, centered on the fact that for once, Aria's presence in the apartment was not a meager single-hour visit but a prolonged, albeit forced stay. This facilitated what had been suffering scarcity as of late: conversation.

Occasionally, Liselle would walk past her bedroom and catch Aria glaring at a wall, ceiling, or out the window in dreadful boredom, and she would come sit beside her where they would spend the following hours discussing whatever Liselle decided for them. The majority of Liselle's topics consisted of books and humorous anecdotes of things she could recall happening over the past few months. Although it was extremely difficult to elicit laughter from Aria, she listened attentively to every word, and Liselle was delighted.

Among all subjects touched on, they did not talk about Liselle's future participation in the investigations.

When they were not talking, and when Aria was not sentenced to boredom, she would close the bedroom door, lock it, and presumably conduct business with those managing Omega's districts in her absence. And on a few occasions Aria was seen making her way through the apartment's front door, heading to the floor's shared comm room to make long-distance calls. She would always take a few commandos with her, and by the time Aria returned, the weariness would have crept back into her features, and her movements would decrease in speed and vitality. If Aria was any other person in any other circumstances, Liselle would have teased her about the way she toiled down the hallway like an old woman of non-asari origins, but her mother did not share her sense of humor, and so the maiden stayed silent. Aria was already irritable enough by each day's end. She didn't need to provoke her, especially since additional stress wouldn't exactly improve Aria's health any amount.

Liselle almost exclusively brought her mother water or healthy beverages when she requested them. Aria's paranoia had escalated since the incident in Afterlife, but Liselle understood that it wasn't unwarranted. No unnecessary chances would be taken. Liselle was present after all, and if Aria was to trust anyone with her weakened state, it would be her.

Once, after Liselle had delivered Aria a glass of water, she took a seat at the foot of the bed, folded her legs beneath herself, and watched her. It was a strange moment, as if an abrupt and severe disassociation between Liselle and the rest of the world had struck her, inspiring a level of curiosity within the girl that would normally only be found when observing something very unfamiliar. She watched as Aria sipped the water while reading from a datapad, propped up by a small stack of pillows. If her mother was aware of her scrutiny she did not seem to care, or she was too absorbed in her own readings for it to matter enough.

Liselle struggled to make sense of the moment, and why Aria suddenly seemed so unfamiliar. She felt as if she hadn't met her until that exact instant, or if Aria had... somehow changed into an unrecognizable form. While Liselle attempted to decrypt her own thoughts, the silence blanketing the room brought a certain sound to her awareness. It was the subtle noises emitted by the fan in the wall, still rotating, squealing out little mutters of monotonous perdition, her own personal waiting room inside her head. It scraped against the inside of Liselle's skull and drove her mad, but it didn't seem to similarly affect Aria.

And why would it, Liselle thought? Aria would probably deny it, but she was a person of habit. She could settle into the insufferable sound, adapt to it, and cease to hear it as its irritating pattern gradually syncopated into normalcy. But Liselle could not. The sound was ever-present in her mind, growing louder and louder until reaching raucous screams whenever the room went quiet and she paid the fan too much heed.

And then, all at once, her mental chaos suddenly fell into an orderly line; an artery of thought leading straight back to its own roots. Something was terribly wrong concerning her perception of Aria. Not precisely _wrong_ , no, Liselle reasoned, but _lacking_. Slowly and surely, as she watched Aria down her glass of water, Liselle realized the inexplicable unfamiliarity that had struck her moments ago was not so strange. Aria _was_ unfamiliar.

She didn't know her mother at all.

Aria had been the centerpiece for a single, reoccurring question asked throughout her childhood: _when will I get to see my mother again?_ During Liselle's earliest years of life, Aria was the one who held her and kissed her, regardless of infrequency, and back then, Liselle's love and respect for Aria was instinctual and self-evident. But now... although her love remained intact, it had changed. Transformed into something presently unrecognizable, something with different demands.

Seeing Aria poisoned may have brought such thoughts bubbling to the surface, challenging her previously adolescent understanding of reality. That Aria was not who she once saw her as—not immortal. And so Liselle was left to redefine her mother, to ask herself, who was Aria now? If not an ultimate protector, she was merely another person susceptible to death, and if her persona was no longer filled with abstract traits of only glory and power, what exactly composed Aria?

All those questions Liselle had always wondered about; whether Aria had fears, who her parents were and what her life was before Omega, why she came to Omega in the first place, and just as importantly, who Liselle's other parent was, were zealously resurrecting. Of course, she had asked Aria all these things multiple times before, but each time her mother would shake her head, look away, and say, "It doesn't matter."

But it did matter. It mattered now more than ever. The myriad questions were rapidly becoming less of idle ponderings and more so ones that _needed_ to be answered, not just to sate Liselle's curiosity, but to see Aria honoring an unspoken obligation. Aria only seemed to hide the information from Liselle because she was a child—at least, that was what Liselle believed—and didn't possess the capacity to understand, or would be horrified by the truth. That era had ended, however, and Liselle now awaited answers that Aria still refused to give.

She asked her while she sipped her water. Liselle mustered her courage, hardened her features to a staid, determined expression, and issued the first bold question of many others patiently waiting in queue, "Who was my father?"

Aria's eyes lifted to meet hers, but she did little else. After examining her daughter, reading her with the same startlingly invasive scrutiny that so easily exposed the intentions and motives of all who she looked upon, she replied as anticipated, "It doesn't matter," and returned to her datapad.

"It _does_ matter," Liselle disputed.

Without looking up again, Aria asked her, "Why does it matter to you?"

"Because... Because I have a right to know where I came from."

"You haven't answered my question," said her mother. "Why does it _matter_ to you?"

"B-Because," Liselle stammered and silently cursed herself for doing so. She did not have a ready answer. "I…"

"What would change if I told you?" said Aria, lifting a finger to scroll through the text displayed on her device.

"I... just wanted to know, Mother," Liselle replied, her final words diminishing in volume as her statement ended.

Aria spared her a final glance, but said nothing more. Liselle wilted into frustrated dejection. She turned her body, brought her legs over the side of the bed, stood, and left the bedroom with a head pounding with self-reprimand toward her lack of preparation. Whenever speaking with Aria, she had learned, one's ideas needed to be properly sorted out before verbally engaging her or Aria would completely dismantle any argument with a few words. Liselle had been impulsive, and before she even understood why she wanted to know her father's identity so badly, she had tragically fumbled her chances of acquiring any knowledge. Perhaps if she had pressed her mother, implemented more aggression in her meek persuasion attempt, she might have gotten further. But why hadn't she? Liselle didn't fear butting heads with Aria like everyone else did. Although the rate of defeat was high, the consequences were minimal.

As she strode somberly back into the hall, Liselle reflected on her non-combative approach. Maybe the topic of discussion wasn't meant to manifest as a fight. For what Liselle had requested from Aria was honesty and openness—tokens of love, and love was not obtained through aggression.

Even so, Aria continually denying her access to her immediate heritage was a brutal stave to the heart. Liselle simply could not fathom her reasons. Was Aria protecting her from something? Was Aria merely avoiding the gateway to a conversation revealing Liselle's unpremeditated existence? She abhorred that possibility; not because it pained her, but because Aria would have been severely underestimating her intelligence if it were true. Liselle was not stupid. She had already acknowledged the high likelihood of her conception being accidental. As a child the notion once troubled her, made her occasionally feel like an unwanted burden with the sole, villainous purpose of impeding her mother's ambitions, but she had resolved by promising to herself that she would someday make Aria proud and prove to be useful enough to return all the time and effort spent on her. And after more years of life Liselle eventually realized the fault wasn't her own and _couldn't_ have been her own simply because it was impossible to will oneself into existence, and so the probability of being a 'mistake' did not presently haunt her as much as it once did.

She brooded during the hours after her short conversation with her mother, spending them with the commandos loitering around the main sitting room. She listened to them listlessly chat but contributed little herself. Her mind was elsewhere, occupied with secrets, the words of Zuria regarding the dark natures of some, and wondering if there was a way for her to find out without having to directly confront Aria again. If there was ever an alternate route around challenging Aria, no matter its complexity, it was usually the easier route.

But why did Aria so adamantly guard these things? Would Liselle knowing really be so terrible? Knowing Aria, with her pragmatism, with her definite purposes behind everything she did... there must have been a significant cause for her silence, thought Liselle. What if the story was sad or horrifying? What if Aria's past partner was a particularly awful individual, unsuited and undeserving of ever meeting their daughter? What if they were dead? Fifty years translated into _ages_ on Omega. That was probably the case, Liselle believed. If her father was dead, what did it matter now? They would just be a meaningless name, an obscure, intangible, unrelatable vestige of someone who would no longer impact Liselle's life in the slightest, but whose memory might still plague Aria in some manner. Was Liselle being selfish while blundering into a question whose answer she may not be ready for, or one Aria was not ready to disclose? And was it truly her right to pursue the truth in defiance of any ill that could come with it?

She couldn't know.

When the time came to sleep for the night, Liselle quietly entered her darkened bedroom and joined the temporary second occupant of her bed, moving softly and slowly as to not disturb her. She was still distracted by the lingering questions, but she was no longer upset with her mother.

In time, answers would come to her. Like Zuria had said, secrets had a way of eventually revealing themselves no matter how well they were guarded. And so, in another time, some point months or years from now, knowledge would inevitably find Liselle whether at the conscious decision of her mother or by a turn of fate.

She peered through the inky shadows of the room, her gaze soon fixing on the dark silhouette of Aria resting beside her. The one widely regarded as the single most dangerous person in the Terminus Systems, a ruthless crime lord. A sleeping drug lord, mob boss, pirate queen, Omega's CEO, and all the other diverse titles Liselle had ever read or heard. And yet, there was one title no one else ever used in reference to her, some part of Aria hidden away from the galaxy, yet ironically something Aria had allowed Liselle to know amidst all that she kept from her.

Aria was her mother, and that alone sufficed. It justified and explained the way Aria shielded her, protected her for years, but now that Liselle had arrived at a definitive threshold of maturity, her mother's efforts were outliving their propriety. She was suffocating her daughter now like an embrace grown too tight, and Liselle was fighting to pry her arms away, to escape into the hostile freedom of Omega, into secrets once forbidden, into the pursuit of self-sustainability. So she leaned over and kissed Aria's cheek, thanking her for life, shelter, and love, but also while gently rejecting the boundaries and restrictions imposed upon her child self. She had outgrown them.

After retreating and settling back down, preparing to sleep as well, Liselle spent a moment staring blankly at the ceiling. The sound of movement drew her eyes to the side. She felt a pang of guilt, wondering if she had disturbed her mother from sleep, but before she could ascertain whether that was true and if an apology was necessary, Aria had returned her gesture by pressing her lips to the side of Liselle's face. She had understood her daughter's message, and responded with her own.

Aria was well-versed in impermanence and finality. She knew at once that the child Liselle was gone forever now, never to be seen again after this instant, and so she lingered for a second longer than she normally would have, mimicking the way she used to kiss Liselle when she was only a few years old. She wasn't just her daughter anymore. She was her operative, her special agent soon to embark on a dangerous task to help ensure the preservation of Omega's currently ruling syndicate.

It was a goodbye.

Aria was saying goodbye to her little girl. Over the years Liselle had steadily shed pieces of adolescence, and this was the very last one—the last time Aria would regard her as a child.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

For the asari councilor, the past three days were spent conducting business as usual, except with the additional tasks of addressing the dismal surplus of public concerns about the lawsuits. Fortunately, a press conference held the previous day went much better than initially expected; she and Councilor Estulius provided the majority of the input, almost unconsciously out of a desire for reputation redemption in light of the connection between their family lines. Salarian Councilor Forlan generously permitted their two voices to dominate. He was incisively understood their situation.

While Tevos tried to remain politically neutral on the matter, only giving quantitative answers and near-verbatim citations of violated regulations, Estulius incorporated a more personal and charismatic approach. He highlighted morals, breaches of integrity—and consequentially, was able to move the masses to a level of approval that was never granted to Tevos's replies. She didn't precisely agree with his approach, for although speaking to the emotions of the people gained him temporary favor, in essence it was little more than embellished palaver. It was likely that he found having Tevos's supplementary objective data opened an opportunity to sway their audience.

She thought the strategy to be reckless. It reinforced her first impression of Estulius—a conspicuous aberration amongst the past turian councilors Tevos had worked with, and a far cry from his origins in the Maevian family, whom Tevos remembered to be an incredibly grave and articulate clan; usually completely unresponsive to anything but cold, bleak fact. It was almost comical, that he and Tevos were being attacked for having blood ties. They were so patently estranged in terms of disposition. How could anyone possibly take the accusations seriously? It baffled her.

The other deviance from her schedule was the inclusion of Aria. Tevos spoke with her on two other occasions, on both days following Aria's initial revelation of her _inconvenienced_ status. The crime lord was standoffish at first, even more so than usual, and seemed to force herself whenever discussing the events leading up to her vulnerability. But in Aria's words was a quality of raw necessity. She needed to soothe her accumulating paranoia, and that could only be achieved by enveloping herself with allies in high places from which they could alert her to impending danger. As before, Aria swallowed her pride and proceeded to outline her recent troubles.

First came the gruesome deaths in her administration. Her right-hand, mutilated and found floating in some vile culvert. An asari lieutenant, upper body shredded to ribbons from a detonated explosive hidden in her attire. And the most curious of all, the disturbing tale of the batarian pirate Olat Dar'nerah, in which he was witnessed traveling through Afterlife when he was already dead.

It would be an understatement to say that Tevos was hesitant to believe Aria, despite knowing it was very unlike the Omegan to relay potentially fallacious information. In the past, whenever Aria was uncertain of something she made a clear note of it to communicate a larger need for prudence and the consideration of presently unidentified variables. Even in the absence of that cautioning, Tevos could not help but question the accuracy of the tale on multiple instances. Aria quickly became annoyed by the councilor's persistent skepticism, lifting a hand to rub her temple before irritably asserting that she had failed to make sense of the phenomenon as well.

With the bizarre event established between them, now assumed to have indeed happened for Aria's sake, they speculated. Why was that particular assassination so garish and exorbitant in comparison to the others? Whatever was done to Olat Dar'nerah to produce the ghastly scenario would've been expensive and overly sophisticated. What had they tried to accomplish? Were they trying to demonstrate their power, to scare Aria? And why had this mysterious enemy gone to such lengths to insult them all in the first place? They were obviously capable of inflicting massive damage without detection. If they had not been so spiteful of Aria for whatever reasons they had, they might have successfully killed her. Of course, Tevos did not say that bit aloud.

Another string of words running through her head which Tevos did not voice was Aria's arrogance and complacency likely being at fault. But the more Tevos pondered, the more that explanation failed to completely fit the circumstance. Aria wasn't any less cautious than she was when Tevos first met her. But all it took was a single mistake, a single drop of trust misplaced in a single traitorous guard patiently waiting to make a move. She couldn't entirely blame Aria, even if she _had_ been particularly prideful lately, undoubtedly from riding the final victorious waves of lasting a full century on Omega's volatile throne.

Still... she felt small, periodic aches of pity while in talks with Aria, often roused whenever she began to sound breathless, or when tiny jolts of pain crossed her normally impassive features.

And Tevos found it odd and unnervingly nostalgic, they way they conversed with the sudden frequency only reminiscent of a time many years ago when they were at odds, teetering on the edge of a major conflict between their territories with only their common goals of avoiding a war able to propagate cooperation. When they had allied, it felt quite natural in practice, but whenever Tevos distanced herself to review their situation, she would always feel a peculiar anxiety wash over her. The feeling only worsened the closer they became, and reached its abject zenith on the day they last met in person. Tevos soothed her own nerves by promising herself that she would never have to experience the strange illness again.

But after their private calls the illness returned, though twisted into a variation. The anxiety was still present in full strength, but there was an additional component. It was... a unique fuss, pleasant yet severely troubling and alarming; becoming most prevalent whenever Aria cast her a certain leer while the councilor took her turn to speak. She knew Aria was listening to her, proven by her pertinent replies, but prior to them Tevos couldn't help but notice something odd in her gaze—a subtle absence, wandering attention, then suddenly Aria was there all at once, watching her finish her statement as if she were carefully puncturing the councilor with many needles, one by one. She could feel them pricking her, invasively crawling along her skin, but she never allowed herself to make any sign of perturbation.

She knew what it was, and it nearly sent her into panic.

_"Why doesn't anyone complain about your friend?"_ Aria had asked when the austerity of their conversation diminished into a somewhat casual exchange. She was referring to Irissa, whose friendship with the asari councilor since university was never kept secret. _"The turian councilor, a man you've never personally met before in your life until now, is suddenly your supposed affiliate in a family-based conspiracy, but a friend you've known for centuries receives absolutely no aspersion for continually rising in ranks under your supervision?"_

"Irissa and I were once candidates for the councilor position," Tevos had begun to explain. "Since we ran against one another, the public must have recognized our independence. And since we were both viable candidates, Irissa had already demonstrated her political competency. Her subsequent career path was anticipated and there wasn't much of a reason to suspect any help from myself. Not to mention that she's been working in the Embassies for years now, while Councilor Estulius is a new addition. And as we both know, changes are often met with more... explosive reactions."

_"How are you still friends?"_ Aria inquired. _"She didn't hold a grudge after losing?"_

"No, Aria," Tevos said. "We're both adults. We try not to throw tantrums when we lose."

Aria gave a slight smirk, though it, like the majority of her recent sentences, seemed burdened by weariness. _"I have... other things to tend to._ _I need to go."_

"Such as sleeping, I assume?" Tevos cleverly asked, but only received an unamused frown from Aria, who replied with an insipid _n_ _o_ before disconnecting.

She was lying. The councilor had found another smile tugging at her lips as she abandoned the vid comm console, and it remained on her mouth for a long while. Until she realized what it implied.

The smile, despite its relative innocence, frightened her. It was utterly _terrifying,_ along with the needle-pricks across her flesh, the intrusion of memories, and the results of observing Aria, who was tired, underdressed to grant a more visible outline of her body, her shoulders and collarbones exposed, and arms free from their usual coat of white leather...

Like always, Tevos had to pause, shut her eyes for a moment, and actively remind herself to not entertain thoughts of that nature. It happened far too often. _Fifty years_ had passed. That was more than enough time for the attraction to fade, and there were many months during which Tevos never thought about it at all. But whenever Aria showed up, thoughts of their past were revived with such vivid detail that it felt as if only a few days had passed since their last encounter.

And what of Aria herself? Had she been able to banish the memories from her mind? She couldn't have. Incidents involving someone with as much galactic importance as the _asari councilor_ didn't just miraculously vanish from one's conscience. Aria must have thought about it on occasion. Perhaps during their conversations, when spans of silence would have her giving Tevos those weird leers, but never saying anything to reveal what was happening inside her head. Was she thinking about it? But if she was, it was quite peculiar that Aria never brought it up. She could've easily weaponized it against the councilor as material for insults, but she never did. Why was that so?

Tevos couldn't grasp her reasons.

Nevertheless, she was still a bit grateful that Aria didn't talk about it. Tevos had nearly blundered into what could've been the worst mistake she had made in centuries, and it wasn't in her interest to replicate a similar gateway situation. So when Aria departed years ago, she had wisely kept her far away. As for their modern relations, Tevos profoundly hoped they had outgrown it. She _prayed_ that they had outgrown it.

After all, as history had proven, whenever they were put in the same room for long they either started conspiring or laying their hands on things they _really_ weren't supposed to.

The asari councilor was able to clear her head of the distracting clutter for the next few hours, but during the petitions later on in the day, her mind began to wander anew. Not exclusively to Aria herself, but more to their present misfortunes. While the salarian councilor drawled on about something in exasperating detail, Tevos immersed herself in a review of the data she and Aria had presented to each other minus the identity of the persons behind the Lucen Dust influx, which Aria was still miserly holding onto. She was making mental lists, tallying up their problems, cross-referencing them, supposing possible explanations and courses of action...

And suddenly, something occurred to her. Multiple things.

For the remainder of the petition, Tevos's usual mediating input was nearly absent. She was away, with vacancy in her eyes and distance in every word spoken over the next half hour. Only when the assembly dissolved was Tevos able to resurface from her distraction by returning to her office to inform her correspondent of what was plaguing her. As soon as she was once again in the solitude of her workspace, Tevos brought up her omni-tool, accessed her mail client, opened a blank message template, and briskly began to type into the holo-interface.

.

TO: ARIA T'LOAK  
FROM: CLR. TEVOS N'VANI  
SUBJECT: A correlation you may find interesting.

I would have contacted you via vid comm, but since you've proven to be quite elusive to get an immediate hold of, and because this is comparably high-priority, I have defaulted to these means of contacting you so that you may receive this information as soon as possible.

My first point of interest regards the resurgence of Alunigen B2. When the first reports of its presence on Citadel streets erupted, our initial suspicions linked you to its source, as you remember. Relations were jeopardized, and the Council, as well as Asari High Command, were displeased. You disavowed involvement, but evidence gathered by Spectres continued to contradict your claimed innocence. Of course, the evidence was not substantial grounds for a formal accusation, but it was enough to keep you as our primary suspect.

While said Spectres prowled the Traverse for new leads, they came upon massive piles of incriminating evidence exposing three corporations for abhorrent misconduct and law infringements. Corporations which you recently gained ties to and invested in, as you've pointed out, resulting in large amounts of credits becoming endangered as a direct cause of the Council's decision. You reacted with outrage. I know not how the Spectres came across the spontaneous surge of evidence, so I wonder if it was deliberately, and furtively, handed to them.

This, combined with your current troubles on Omega, paints quite a meretricious picture of coincidence. Along with deaths in your administration, is it possible for your unidentified enemy to be attempting to sever ties between you and your most powerful allies, and/or turning them against you? I ask, have you encountered any other recent situations wherein formidable allies have deserted or fallen?

I fear all these events are connected. Although it remains unproven, I don't believe you can afford to ignore this correlation. The identification of the Alunigen B2 smugglers may be, or are affiliated with, your enemy. If you pass that intelligence onto me I may be able to provide additional means to silence them, as they are also considered enemies of the Citadel. Do not be greedy, Aria. You must be reasonable.

I await your exigent reply.

.

With her message complete, Tevos sent it. The glow of her omni-tool faded from sight as she reclined in her chair, bringing her hands together in a pensive fold, and determined what work needed to be completed next.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Aria had departed sometime during the last night, only leaving behind orders for the commandos and a note to Liselle, informing her of the time and location where she would have to be present for her briefing. Liselle felt her heart beat faster with anticipation when she realized the briefing was scheduled for that very afternoon. She spent the morning preparing, and whenever she crossed beneath the gazes of any other residents within the apartment, she felt their exuded concerns, and she was only able to shake free of their weight by escaping into another room.

None of them condoned Liselle or Aria's decision to let her go, but to question the combined orders of their boss and the will of her daughter was a terrible trespass and borderline subversion. They had no choice but to accept the turn of events.

Zuria joined Liselle in her bedroom when she was pulling her boots on. The maiden was already clad in the commando leathers she used for training, and the pistol Zuria had leant her was fastened to her belt. Liselle looked over at her mentor as Zuria took a seat in the chair set against one wall, folding her hands together and hunching over, eyes directed at the floor.

"Are you ready?" she asked Liselle. The question addressed the girl's mental state more than her physical, as it was quite obvious that she was finishing her regiment.

"Yes," affirmed Liselle, standing up straight after both boots securely encased her feet.

Zuria nodded in understanding, pausing for a while to gather her words. "You know what to do if you get into trouble? You remember what I told you?"

"Send them flying and run," Liselle recited. "And if I can't run, keep throwing them until they stop moving."

"A flawless strategy," Zuria said, managing a small smile. Her gaze traced Liselle's motion of lifting a pack from the bed and slinging the single strap over her head and one shoulder. "What are you bringing?"

"Things for emergencies," she replied, giving the matron the usual questioning, alert brightness in her eyes. "Some medical supplies, spare provisions, a few personal devices."

Zuria rose from her chair. "Be wary of pickpockets. If you feel any tugs, turn around and deck them."

Liselle let out an amused breath. "I will."

"Are you carrying any knives? Just in case?"

The girl extended her forearm, pressing forward onto her sleeve. The familiar glint of a thin metal blade protruded from a discreet slit in the wrist area.

Zuria nodded again, feeling proud of Liselle, but that pride quickly sank into apprehension. Liselle could see the grave worry seeping into her features, exposing the existence of many comments withheld out of respect.

"What's wrong?" Liselle asked.

A long, thoughtful pause preceded her reply. "When I first left home to do mercenary work," said Zuria, "I was sixty-seven. I was scared for the first few weeks. Terrified. I had years of commando training and I was eager to get out there, but... training doesn't prepare you for the real thing. It never does."

Liselle watched her, listening carefully as she idly grasped the strap slung across her chest with one hand. She knew what Zuria was getting at. She was going to try to discourage her without technically defying Aria. Her reasons were very understandable, but Liselle had already made up her mind and would not change it to appease anyone else, no matter how much she cared for them. This was Liselle's life, and she wanted to gain control over it at last.

"Why did you decide to do this?" Zuria asked her, tactfully skirting around outright condemnation.

The maiden looked away, a habit of temporary restraint and self-management undoubtedly inherited or learned from her mother, and spent a few moments piecing her reply together. "I just wanted to _do_ something for once instead of just rotting away here, useless."

"You're not useless," said Zuria, her tone sincere, albeit somewhat exasperated. "You've _never_ been useless. I understand that you want to go out and create a name for yourself, but this is really drastic, Liselle. This is _dangerous_. Jumping into something like this right at the start could easily overwhelm you, and no one wants to see that happen."

Liselle exhaled sharply. "No one wants me to do this. I get that. But I've made up my mind. I'm going to help my mother, because she needs people who she can trust. If you asked her to give names, how many people do you think she could list who are loyal with absolute certainty?"

"She wouldn't list any," said the matron. "Not even you."

Her brow reflexively furrowed.

"There is no such thing as certainty. Not for Aria. She can't afford to be certain about anything. That's the nature of her work, and what you might not realize is that she plays a constant game of probability." Zuria began slowly pacing about the room, appearing uncomfortable with their discussion. "Money and rewards. Threats and eliminations. Drugs, luxuries, protection, war, resources... All these things influence the odds, and Aria tries to control them in a way that benefits those who serve her and destroys those who oppose her. But it doesn't matter how well she's thought out something. In the end, Aria's always gambling." She turned around to face Liselle again, holding her arms outward in a weary gesture. "And the same goes for deciding to put you on the board. You're not good to have out there, Liselle. You change the game, start skewing things. Aria can't bribe you or threaten you. She can't properly control you like she can everyone else, and yet she fears what could happen to you. We _all_ fear what could happen to you."

Liselle was silent.

"And so what if she can trust you?" Zuria said, a significant amount of emotional investment leaking through her voice. "So what if there's a near-zero chance of your betrayal? That still doesn't make you an asset. Having you out on Omega and in danger only hurts Aria. Causes her to worry and possibly expend additional means to ensure your safety, things that she wouldn't do for anyone else. People _die_ doing investigative work here. There are no laws to protect you, and people aren't fond of others meddling in their business. Do you really think you're suited for this? Are you just trying to help your mother? You can help her in different ways, Liselle. She doesn't expect you to do any of this. She doesn't _want_ you to do this." She stopped, realization alighting in her face. "Liselle, does this stem from... guilt? Do you feel guilty about not being directly useful to Aria?"

"This isn't about her!" Liselle snapped, suddenly throwing a glare at the other asari. Her hands balled into fists. "So what if this is hard for her? You know what's hard for me? Being her daughter! I'm _Aria's daughter_ and hardly ever _Liselle_. Not my own person, not someone who can choose what they want to do without first having to consult five other people! I love my mother and I do want to help her, but that's not the only thing I've been thinking about! Omega's my home too, and whatever happens now is going to affect my future. If things get worse—if someone manages to kill my mother, or if she loses control—I'm also going to feel the results." She gestured emphatically toward herself. "I have _every right_ to determine my own fate. I've been understandably denied that my entire life, but not anymore. I won't just sit around doing nothing when I _know_ that I'm capable of contributing! I'm Liselle T'Loak and no one's going to prevent me from making something of myself! No one! Not my mother, and not you!" By the time she had finished, Liselle's shoulders were subtly heaving with every breath.

Zuria was staring at her with a blend of shock and curiosity, as if her cognitive processing of the outburst had briefly stalled. She sighed. "You know, Liselle... I suppose you're right." She left the junction of the two walls behind and approached the girl, placing a hand on her shoulder and examining her hardened expression. "You... You're right. This is your life and you deserve to choose what you do with it."

Liselle's adamant glower relaxed.

The matron, keeping her hand on the girl's shoulder, remained there for a moment without speaking. She then abruptly gave a short, hollow laugh. "You really are Aria's daughter." She smiled a bit mournfully. "Sometimes I forget that. I really shouldn't. You see, whenever Aria sets her mind to something... it happens, simple as that. I guess it's going to be the same with you."

The maiden's countenance grew apologetic. "I'm sorry," she said on impulse, feeling quite bad for shouting at Zuria, who was obviously very understanding of her position despite her disagreement. She hadn't deserved it.

"Don't be sorry," Zuria said, releasing her shoulder. "You were completely right and I needed to be reminded of my place. I shouldn't be questioning your mother like that. You've both made a decision and I need to respect it." She looked upon the girl, comprehending her appearance. Liselle was a commando in every visible respect; combat attire, a gun, and determined eyes adorning a bold young girl ready to leap into the fight for her home like so many others of youth, smitten by the deceptive grandeur of war, and disguising their juvenile ardor with words of duty. It was a deadly disease, hallucinogenic in nature, and there was no cure save for time and experience. Liselle needed to do this herself.

"I should inform you of something," Zuria began anew, feeling that she owed the maiden inclusion of the ongoing events. "I'll be joining your mother's administration for a while. I once told myself I would never do this again, but right now I need pitch in, and since you'll be gone in the meantime... I don't have much of a job, and Aria needs old loyal friends now more than ever. So if things get bad, you'll have the comfort of knowing that I'm in this too, and you can also come to me if you're ever in any trouble."

Liselle nodded, appreciative of her mentor's generosity and devotion. "Did she say anything else? Is she replacing a lot of them?"

"Yes. People are being shuffled around, but Aria knows what she's doing."

She inclined her head, grasping the strap of her modest pack again. There wasn't much else to say to her mentor, who continued to peer at her with the determination of one who was burning the sight of something into her mind. She was taking a mental photograph of Liselle, crystallizing the image of the girl in her memory after being struck by the possibility of never again having the chance to do so. Liselle was not particularly fond of that—it was morbid and slightly insulting toward her capabilities, and the fact that it was coming from her mentor only added to the unintentional offense.

"So... you're ready?" Zuria tentatively asked the same question from earlier, whose answer was still the same. "You're leaving now?"

"Yes," Liselle replied. "I need to be there in a little less than an hour from now."

"You have credits? For cab rides and everything you might need?"

"Plenty."

Zuria shifted her weight to her other foot, appearing anxious. "Well... I suppose I'll see you soon, Liselle. Hopefully this first mission, whatever it might entail, will send you home again within a day or two. If we're lucky, maybe I'll see you tonight."

Liselle hadn't felt any pain toward the prospect of leaving until that moment. Previously, she was too excited and preoccupied with battling the judgment of her mother and her other supplementary guardians, and so the magnitude of her departure hadn't the chance to catch up to her. But now it forcefully hit her all at once, and the woe currently seeping into Zuria's eyes did little to mitigate the feeling. But it could not change her mind. She didn't reconsider for an instant. Instead, she afforded the matron a weak smile, requesting Zuria's faith in her while attempting to lift her spirits. Fortunately, she smiled in return.

Before Liselle left her bedroom, she stole one last glance around her living space. The humble rectangular dimensions of the room, the warm fiery hues illuminating the sparse, geometric furnishings, a fake plant in one corner, her orderly desk, the lonely armchair facing the foot of the bed, and the bed itself. Although she hadn't become too attached to the apartment during the brief time spent in it, the furniture always followed their moves, and helped served as a source of familiarity and the amorphous definition of home. As she turned to the door, Liselle found one thing that she did not dread parting from: the softly-squealing fan mounted in the upper wall, forever taunting her state of indolence, isolation. She left it behind in stride.

The dosage of celebration faded, however, when she emerged from the hallway and into the main sitting room. The remaining occupants of the apartment were all assembled to see her off. They were on their feet, standing in a single, neat row; the way they stood for Aria whenever she was directing them.

At the start of their line was Iaera. Her downcast eyes were involuntarily glistening, and she said nothing. She was condemned to silence, forbidden to intervene, sentenced to swallow her grief without comment. Liselle paused, meeting Iaera's sorrowful eyes before bringing her arms around the matron in an embrace. The gesture was returned, accompanied by a hushed sob against her shoulder. When Liselle drew away, she kissed her cheek and squeezed her hands, expressing her boundless gratitude for all she had done for her over the years. Although Iaera was not her mother, Liselle still loved her like family, and despaired to see her weep.

When she parted from her, she looked to the commandos who nodded respectfully, wishing her luck. She saw their eyes as well. All irises were worriedly swimming with personal memories, flashbacks to the times when they also first leapt out into the wide galaxy with hearts full of ambition. Launching themselves headfirst into broken fairytales and throttled childhood dreams, where they were soon crushed by harsh, disabusing reality.

The galaxy was not a benevolent place. There were no good things easily awaiting her, especially on Omega. Here, suffering and death was rampant and expected. Omega was the quintessence of the universe's merciless nature, bereft of synthesized safety unlike its Citadel counterpart. Omega, like the enclosing void, was apathetic, hostile, and only bound by the basic laws of physical limitations and survival of the fittest.

The commandos sympathized with her. They wished unto her silent blessings, beseeching the proverbial goddess to see Aria T'Loak's noble daughter through her perilous tasks, but that was all they could pray for.

Not even Athame's blessings seemed to penetrate Omega's pernicious metal hide.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

TO: CLR. TEVOS N'VANI  
FROM: ARIA T'LOAK  
SUBJECT: Re: A correlation you may find interesting.  
ATTACHMENT: HOLO1, HOLO2, HOLO3, VID1, VID2

You've proposed a decent point. I'll take it into consideration.

The drug network's base is bunkered down in Kite's Nest, the Indris System, on a planet called Camala. It's in Batarian Hegemony territory. Not a colony, but it's still theirs, and may become a colony in the future. If the base is on Camala with the permission of the Hegemony, I can't touch them without risking a serious conflict. Neither can you.

However—if the Hegemony doesn't know they're there, you should inform their higher government and convince them to send their people to either kick the drug lab out or eliminate it. If you play it right, the Hegemony could end up doing all the dirty work for you. Now, although I'm nearly certain their base is indeed on Camala, an unusual amount of activity in the Terminus Systems leads me to believe that they either have very efficient routes of distribution, or they've split into two separate locations. The latter is more probable. For now we'll focus on what we have.

I've attached some of the evidence my special agents gathered as well as exact coordinates. It should be enough, and if it isn't, take my word for it. They're there. We have no specific names as of now, just proof of location and activities.

Go about this how you will. If they're my enemy or simply linked to them, I need to confirm it first before even thinking about attacking them. The last thing I need is to get the Hegemony pissed off at me while I'm dealing with everything else. You have batarian ambassadors, correct? Get them on this, see if the Hegemony knows about their little fugitives. If they do... have fun with that political tribulation. But if they don't, then you can probably settle this with a bit of pressure.

Get back to me when you apprehend the Hegemony's position.

.

After reading over Aria's reply, Tevos averted her eyes from the text at a pang of slight indignation. It originated in her chest's center, steadily spreading out until reaching her head, where she made sense of the intuitive negative reaction. Here Tevos had expended ample time analyzing their situation, even taking it upon herself to generously alert Aria of her conclusions, and she had thanked her by virtually tossing what could only be interpreted as orders at her face, poorly hidden in a package containing the intelligence she requested. Of course, the councilor was glad to have the information in hand, but for Aria to have delivered it in such a disrespectful manner...

She canted her head ever so slightly while closing her eyes, letting the feeling pass. She was upset over nothing. After all, it was Aria T'Loak who she was dealing with. It was foolish of her to have expected anything else. In Aria's mind, she was the royal monarch overseeing all her little pawns, and she was quite content to remain within that delirious reverie. Attempting to pull her from it would be futile, and so Tevos was burdened with accepting her intractability and addled perceptions.

She sighed, mediating her curious descent into further offense. Tevos was not quite sure why she was so frustrated with Aria's reply, and so she gave it some thought. Perhaps it had been bred from the mute power struggle they initiated the very first time their eyes had met, the insatiable desire to put the other in check, to emerge as the dominate authority. And when Aria regarded her with condescension, syntax and word choices devoid of the utmost respect the councilor was accustomed to, the struggle instantaneously burned back to life.

Aria was trying to use her like she did everyone else, and Tevos was not appreciative of it. The very worst part was that Tevos _would_ be consulting the batarian embassy, and that she _would_ go on to take the problem to the Batarian Hegemony, seemingly at Aria's behest whether she was intentionally communicating obedience or not.

_You're insufferable_ , Tevos thought in regards to Aria. _You're insufferable and I always find myself working with you. For that—doubly insufferable._

Tevos made to reply to the message, planning on condemning Aria's tone and demanding more courtesy next time, but before she could even start typing, the door to her office disengaged and slid open with its audible chime and hiss. Her eyes immediately drew upward, wondering who _else_ intended to insult her with an unannounced entrance, but the sight of a familiar face curbed the worst of her disdain. As her guest took the liberty of sitting down in the chair set before the councilor's desk, Tevos closed the mail client and addressed her, "Irissa, I'd really appreciate it if you'd let Eleni know when you intend to make spontaneous visits. Or knock. Any prior announcement at all, really. I might just revoke your ID-keyed access if you can't do that."

"What has you so vexed?" Irissa said defensively, unable to see any harm done by her presence.

"Nothing, never mind it. What did you need?"

The ambassador produced something, placing it onto Tevos's desk. It was... paper of high quality, neatly folded shut and sealed with a silvery stamp whose tiny, regal emblems were instantly recognized. Tevos's gaze darted back up to find Irissa's. "What is this?" she cautiously asked her.

"Your mail," answered her friend, sounding quite pleased with herself for some reason. "Well go ahead; read it. It's been screened for harmful substances already, so stop looking at it as if it were a dead animal."

"I only find it repugnant for what it might contain inside," Tevos said rather grimly. She reached out to the letter, taking it in hand, and examined the seal for a few moments before breaking it. She noticed something odd about it—the seal didn't seem properly adhesive, but it had been a while since she last handled physical documents, so she thought little of it. After laying it flat on her desk, she began to read:

_Our beloved Tevos N'Vani,_

_You have been cordially invited to the 12th centennial gathering of our extended common heritage and close friends, to take place on 19.2.2081 in the N'Yiria Argent Estate, Kynias, Thessia, from the hours of 11:00—19:00 (GST). We would be most delighted to see our esteemed family member attend this event, as they are not only rare occurrences, but also lavish and certainly appealing to all attendees. Just as well, the reconnection to persons unseen in decades has proven to be the most lovely and anticipated feature of these gatherings, and your presence would be greatly missed if absent._

_A copious banquet of food and drink will be provided. Dextro-amino variants will be available in proper abundance._

_Dress code—formal. We remind our guests (particularly those who wish to congregate in the gardens) that the weather at this time in Kynias is frigid, and the region is expecting the first snows of winter within the next month._

_Bringing additional guests (up to 3 other persons) is encouraged._

_We hope for your attendance and enjoyment. For any additional questions regarding the party, please contact Farala N'Yiria or Galieta N'Yiria._

The invitation ended in a short series of contacts and miscellaneous information, which Tevos did not bother reading. She was quiet for an unusual interval of time, during which Irissa peered at her with curiosity.

"I once believed I was no longer included in these events," Tevos said, "as I haven't received an invitation since I was a maiden."

"Your family just forgot about you?" Irissa asked sardonically.

Tevos shook her head in thought, but slowly developed a small crease in her brow. "Why does it seem like you knew exactly what this letter contained before even bringing it to me? I did not read it aloud if I remember correctly."

Irissa shrugged.

The councilor exhaled. "I suppose it matters not. But in answer to your question—no, they did not forget about me. I know you once met my mother long ago, and a few cousins at one point, I believe, but never anyone from the main artery of my bloodline, so to speak. N'Vani and N'Yiria became kindred over the last millennium through an _unconventional_ pairing, so you can already imagine the hesitance in regarding the resulting generations as part of both houses. I was included with few issues, but when I signed over the inheritance my father left me to my sister Iona, I suspect they were very disapproving of that decision. They said nothing to me, but I no longer received invitations to their extravagant parties." She adjusted the placement of her invitation, then folded her hands neatly together. "I don't deny my family's ambitions. They're quite evident. The press hounding Estulius and me for answers is understandable, though misguided, as I hardly affiliate myself with my relatives anymore."

"You hardly affiliate yourself with anyone, Tevos," Irissa said, attempting to bring up the councilor's solitary habits as a point of humor. Unfortunately, its effect on Tevos's serious mood was minimal. "So... what are we looking at? Now that you're the asari councilor, you've 'redeemed' yourself to them? They want you at their parties again?"

She gave a solemn nod. "There are few other explanations."

"That's despicable."

"If true, then I would agree," said Tevos, gradually rising from severity and into wryness. She reclined in her chair, fingers interlaced with her thumbs thoughtfully pressing together. "My mother, affluent herself, married an extremely affluent man. But it was... strange of my father to have specifically left his companies to his children rather than his mate, who received no official ownership at all. A bit of investment returns, but not the heart of his wealth: his businesses. Those went to his children. I wondered about that since I was young—why Ralleus did that. If he was trying to keep his companies out of the hands of my family, he should have left nothing to me."

"Maybe he trusted you," Irissa offered. "I don't want to say anything against Theralia, but maybe he didn't exactly trust her as much. Maybe he believed she was just after money and influence like the rest of your family seemed to be."

"That's possible, but not quite in alignment with what I remember about my mother," Tevos said. "She was a little vain at times and had expensive tastes, but she wasn't precisely enraptured by the idea of wealth. My extended family was known for charity balls—probably just a ploy to keep a positive connotation on their names—and I recall those being one of the few things my mother voluntarily involved herself with. Of course, it's always been a point of irony, since all the money spent on hosting them could've been sent to charity in the first place, but they always raised something. She saw to that, even made generous contributions herself. Overall, my mother's relationship with our family could best be described as... reluctant participation. Surely my father saw that. I suppose it's not of much consequence anymore, as I doubt I shall ever know the reasons behind his decisions." She corrected her posture to its usual straightness. "Either way, I won't be attending their gathering."

"Uh, hold on," said Irissa, who was apparently answering a call from someone. She looked away from Tevos, bringing two fingers to her earpiece. "...Oh, _great_." Blatant sarcasm. "Thanks. No, I meant it. Thanks, I appreciate you telling me. Okay."

"Who was that?" Tevos asked after Irissa ended the call.

The other asari hesitated. "...It was Councilor Estulius's personal assistant. I ran into him while he was picking up some special mail for Estulius, and he asked me if I knew anything about a letter with an asari-emblem seal." **  
**

Any positivity lingering in Tevos's face vanished at once.

"So I took a look at it, but I didn't recognize it. Then he told me that he saw another like it being screened at the same time, but it was going to Councilor Tevos. So I told him to wait there and called up your secretary to tell her I'd get your mail for you. She was perfectly happy with that." Irissa continued in spite of Tevos quietly saying _o_ _ur protocols are too lax._ "The turian kid and I went off to compare the letters, quickly realizing they were invitations of some sort. So I... I uh, took a look at yours."

"You really did read my mail."

"I couldn't help myself!" Irissa said. "It was terribly suspicious and I was merely looking out for you, Tevos. I know all about it now anyway." She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "Estulius's assistant and I realized that we had something of a haphazard situation on our hands, so he promised to give me a call after Estulius read his."

"What did he tell you?"

"Well... Estulius was invited to your family's gathering. And he's attending."

Tevos stared at Irissa in disbelief. "He's already decided? Why? He didn't think to speak with me first?"

"Apparently not. His assistant told me Estulius called Farala N'Yiria and they had a quick conversation, during which he confirmed his attendance."

The councilor raised her hand to squeeze the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger. The motion was known to Irissa as highly indicative of acute distress or fatigue. "They're all fools," Tevos said hollowly. "My family. Estulius. They are all fools." She lowered her hand. "Are they deliberately trying to destroy us? Does Estulius even realize what will be said if he attends that party? It'll be..." She failed to voice a suitable word, but one term continuously flitting about her thoughts was _catastrophic_.

"Will you go in light of this new information?"

"Absolutely _not_ ," Tevos replied, looking at her friend as if she had lost her mind. "It would only give the media more fodder; another opportunity to accuse Estulius and me of elitism."

"Again, I may be playing the role of a mediator," Irissa began, "but if you _don't go_ , won't that appear as though you have something to hide?"

"It's better than obvious association."

"If I were in your situation... I'd go," she admitted to the councilor. "Either way, the link between him and your family drags you along for the ride. If you're absent, it doesn't matter—you're still one of them. One of their brood, one of their _fronts_ , if I may put it that way, probably just trying to cover your own tracks. But if you went, you might be able to confront the rumors directly. Based on the logic that no crooked politician would dare put herself in the middle of the fire if she indeed had something to hide... But I know that doesn't necessarily apply to reality. Whatever you choose to do, it'll make you appear guilty in some fashion. The only way to avoid that seems to be dissuading Estulius from attending. You need to have a chat with that man."

"I do," Tevos agreed, and said nothing more. She certainly had many people to talk to, it seemed, but the most pressing matter was definitely Estulius. She knew the turian councilor was a bit reckless and bold at times, and he generally had good intentions, but this was outrageous. Did he really believe that his position in government granted him some sort of immunity? Did he believe that his service to the public allowed him to partake in ostentatious celebrations of excess without having to fear for his image? Or was he simply insane?

The situation was utterly disastrous. From all fronts—her family's deceptive ambition of 'welcoming home their beloved asari councilor', Estulius blindly walking into an impending calamity, the possibility of upsetting relations between the Council and the Batarian Hegemony, and even from Aria, whose current adversities meant peripheral trouble to be found by all of her allies, tentative or not.

They were all vital and urgent, but Tevos had no idea how she was going to address the onslaught without failing in at least one respect.


	6. Team Eingana

**THE TAYSERI GAZETTE — "Trouble in Sahrabarik"**

Over these last few weeks, gang wars on Omega have erupted in both larger numbers and in scale compared to its usual levels of inter-station strife. People intending to pay Omega a visit are being discouraged from spending time in the following districts, as violence has escalated to staggering amounts in these areas:

Kima, Doru, and Tuhi

Journalists stationed on Omega have reported rampant skirmishes between the smaller gangs occupying those districts, and advise residents and visitors to relocate to more secure areas such as the Gozu, Zeta, and Kenzo Districts. Although these districts are not free from conflict, they are significantly removed from the battles waged in the previously listed sectors on Omega. One anonymous resident in the Gozu District has given us this statement regarding safety, "I'd say the safest place to be right now is definitely in the heart of Aria T'Loak's territory. She knows how to keep everything under control, and I wouldn't be surprised if she decided to go into those other warring districts and take them from the small gangs. They're easy pickings, you know? No one has firm ownership over them right now, so that'd be a great opportunity for her."

One 'survival' strategy residential areas on the dangerous edges of Aria T'Loak's territories have taken to is pooling their money together to purchase more guards and patrols to be stationed in their neighborhoods.

"You always get your money's worth with Aria," says Kenzo District resident Emas Astala. "Believe me, it's completely worth the extra cost. Just the other day the guards she commissioned to our area took out some rival gangs trying to occupy a nearby apartment complex. If they had managed to situate themselves in there they could've easily gone on to raid our homes and businesses. Of course, Aria would've sent people out then, but it would've been too late for us."

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

The turian councilor's personal aide, being thoroughly aware of the dilemma his superiors were facing, immediately alerted Estulius of Councilor Tevos's intentions to visit his office and allowed her through.

His occupation had exposed him to the individual personalities of the councilors, mostly exhibited during petitions, and his conclusions about Tevos contained a faithful array of traits such as mild, reasonable, cautious, and articulate. But today, she brought something new, something he hadn't seen from her before—terrible, brooding contempt skulking beneath her outward poise, shoulders held just a tad too tightly, and steps quickened by an urgent purpose.

When Tevos entered Estulius's office—a structural clone of her own, albeit with nuances in décor tastes—she found him examining her from his desk, appearing as if he did not quite know how to address her, but concealed his unpreparedness with his usual amiable demeanor. He rose from his chair at once. "Ah, Councilor Tevos," he greeted her while folding his hands behind his back and stepping away from his desk. "I was actually meaning to contact you within the hour."

"Were you?" she inquired, mirroring his professional posture.

Estulius paused, detecting the iota of derision in her tone. "...I see news travels quickly," he remarked, now standing before her.

"It does," Tevos agreed, then leapt right into her primary concerns. "Why did you neglect to speak with me before deciding that it would somehow be a wise decision to attend my family's reunion?"

He audibly exhaled, raising a hand to rub his jaw in thought, and eventually gestured to an empty chair near his desk. "Would you like to have a seat?" Estulius began to round his desk, intending to retake his own chair.

Tevos complied, patiently awaiting his answer as they lowered themselves into their seats. Eye contact was reestablished.

"You see, Councilor," he began, folding his hands onto his desk, "by experience, I've found that being on friendly terms with influential groups is quite necessary for continued success. Few can claim that their success did not enlist the aid of some benefactor at one point or another. I'm sure you would agree. Although I, of course, try to keep my business my own as well as I can."

" _Your_ business?" Tevos questioned him in near-disbelief. "Please correct me if I'm wrong, but I was under the impression that this ordeal was about _my_ family. Councilor, I'm fairly certain that you are aware of the dangerous link between us. Do you not see the implications of your attendance? Do you not realize what might become of our popularity if our supposed association was more or less confirmed?"

"I have already considered the risks," he assured her. "But politics, like business, or even war, is all about taking chances. Making sacrifices for rewards that equate and surpass them in value. You see, here I am being presented with an opportunity to rekindle the mutually beneficial relationship between my clan and yours—something that was lost centuries ago. Yes, I might be risking a blemish on my name as turian councilor, but in light of what could be gained from this, how could I afford to decline, Tevos?"

_The relationship was primarily lost as result of my actions_ , Tevos thought. _Are you all spiting me for it, centuries later? Vengeance is quite a patient force indeed._

She had to remind herself not to jump to conclusions, nor to remain angry while handling a very delicate situation. Even still, against her best efforts, a few renegade atoms of anger passed through her barrier of stoicism, as she was unable to forgive Estulius's trespass of not only endangering his own reputation, but Tevos's as well and without her consent.

"You're welcome to gamble your own career however you please," she said, "but not those of others. I take great offense, Estulius. Since you did not find it appropriate to seek my permission, or if you deemed my own opinions about the matter unimportant, at least allow me a truthful answer to this question: what could you possibly gain from attending that party?"

The turian councilor stared at her for a while, taken aback by the icy deliverance of her words. He forced himself to recover. "Yes, I did neglect to inform you before I made my decision, and for that I apologize. And in answer to your question, I have _very_ much to gain. While your family never inherited any bit of Armax Arsenal, my clan _did_. The descendants of good Iona Maevian would do well by engaging in talks with interested parties. Fortunately, the ice has already been broken." To the gradual knitting of Tevos's brow in perturbation, Estulius sought to redeem himself by saying, "I suppose it's best to look at it this way: I too have a family, Councilor, and I am very fond of them. Should I not provide _some_ help in seeing their estranged rivals become friends instead of foes?"

"That's a bit dichotomous," said Tevos, shaking her head in disapproval.

"Perhaps," he conceded that much to her. "But I've nonetheless devised a plan to shield myself from the vitriol of media and conspiracy lovers, in the event of my attendance. Please note that this plan not only satisfies a way to protect from further damages to our images, but also to repair them. However, this plan _would_ function best with your cooperation. Shall I explain?"

Tevos automatically began to lift a hand to her head, but halted the motion before she could bring attention to her developing headache. Instead, her rising hand curled mid-motion and dropped to her lap as she acquiesced to the other councilor. One chance was all she would allot him. One chance to pitch whatever convoluted plan he had pinned to the drafting boards of his reckless mind. "Very well," she said with some tiredness. "Go ahead."

Estulius rose from his chair, tapping his fingers onto the surface of his desk after suddenly finding himself in a lighter mood. "You see," he began, "I believe the trick to casting away the majority of ill speculations is _not_ actually blatant denial, but... _repurposing_ the harmful rumors."

"How do you mean?" Tevos inquired when he paused.

"First off, disavowing misconduct is never effective. People only need to accuse you of lying. So instead of continuing with our current strategy—merely denying any sort of cabal or whatever it is they suspect—we should now take these speculations and work _with_ them. Rather than wasting our time and energy denying things, we should be confirming _something_." He turned away from her, pacing over to the window and peering out at the Presidium's pleasing vista. Tevos's silence encouraged him to elaborate. "I figured that if we attended your party, we would undoubtedly be confronted by the press in its aftermath, correct? They will demand to know the nature of Councilor Estulius's relationship with Councilor Tevos's family. They will want to hear more denial of association so they can juxtapose those words with my attendance, thus generating their specially-manufactured portrayal of us both as liars. That's what they want. They want to excite people with scandal and make money with their big headlines. So tell me, Tevos, what do you think about giving them something unexpected? What if we 'admitted' to them that all these rumors were actually drawing our families _back_ _together_ instead of exposing a previously established relationship?"

Tevos was perplexed by the idea. When Estulius faced her again, giving her an anticipatory expression, she canted her head slightly in deep thought and consideration before responding. "If I understand correctly, you're suggesting that we... essentially manipulate the speculation? Replace one falsehood with another; one that serves us?"

He nodded in affirmation. "Precisely. If we use the party to our advantage, showing the galaxy that we were thrilled to reconnect through an ironic twist of events—you know, once again becoming highly aware of each other as a result of the accusations—we can warp the situation. It will appear to the public that _their_ hunger for massive scandals brought this to life; planted the idea in our heads, forced us into contact and eventual alliance. There's a turian adage for something of this nature, in an elder language: _the more one dreads something, the likelier it is to manifest_. I'm sure it sounds more phonically pleasing to me. It rhymes. But Tevos, just imagine the public reaction when they discover what has become of their greed for tabloid stories! Plus, if we remain transparent about the relationship between our families, it with appear as though we had been that way from the start, and over time people will find any maintained connection to be utterly harmless."

The asari councilor warily eyed Estulius while she processed his words. As always, she was incredibly hesitant to reveal her true opinion of the strategy. In theory, it sounded... quite excellent, she admitted to herself, but what about in practice? Would reactions fall in line with what Estulius predicted, or would it only inflame their precarious position? Like everything else about the new turian councilor, his strategy was bold. But this time, unlike other moments spent beside him during petitions and otherwise, his plans seemed surprisingly well thought-out and comfortably within the realm of reason. And what other options did they have, aside from declining attendance all together? If they did just that—reverted to absence from the party—they would remain in the spotlight of conjecture unchanged.

But if they played to Estulius's bold plan, there was the possibility of emerging with their reputations mended after shedding the blame onto the media, who had instigated the fiasco in the first place.

"What do you think?" Estulius asked her, appearing confident in himself. "If we do this, all parties can benefit. Your family has two councilors as esteemed guests at their party, granting them publicity and more high-profile friends. My family regains a valuable relationship with another influential bloodline—perhaps the start of something business-inclined. And we are exonerated from the incriminating rumors. Everyone wins, you see. Even the media, since they will receive interesting stories for publication. What do you say, Tevos?" He returned to his seat, sitting down to meet her again at eye-level.

"I'm not certain, Estulius," she said, pensively folding her hands together. "I have personal objections against congregating with my family again. I would be willing to temporarily put them aside if it meant freedom from the speculation, but I fear there are other variables at work which could influence the outcome. It may not go as planned."

"Was anything worthwhile ever gained without risk?" Estulius asked. "We can't always conduct our lives defensively. Good opportunities will pass us by. I understand you may see it differently, however—longevity ultimately presents more opportunities, doesn't it?"

She afforded him a fleeting smile. "That may contribute to my worldview, yes. However I still remain extremely hesitant. What if this fails and the aspersion persists, or is even invigorated?"

"Well... it'll fade," Estulius said, his prediction accompanied by a small shrug. "These things always fade eventually. People grow bored of stories when nothing comes of them, so there isn't anything to sustain their interest. If this fails we lose comparatively little, but if we succeed we gain leaps and bounds. It's only a matter of being patient. Waiting out the storm. At the heart of your hesitation, Councilor Tevos, what are your main fears? It is being viewed in a negative light? Losing additional favor in polls or facing defamation?"

"That is probably the root of my hesitance, yes," she grimly confessed.

"In complete honesty and with all due respect, I don't understand why you fear for your image. You've been in office for half a standard asari term. Fifty years for other species is a tremendous amount of time. You have seniority and opinion polls still generally sway in your favor, even over the last month. Do you truly underestimate your image as being that fragile as to shatter at the smallest mishap?"

"My time in office has given me ample understanding of the galaxy and public opinion," Tevos said. "I have tread carefully for years because the Council is a symbol of authority, and as history has proven time and time again, sapient races have a natural inclination to defy and denounce authority. Especially whenever they find enough of a reason to do so. We are never free from that inevitability, Estulius. We must always be vigilant of our outward presentation and actions, lest our mistakes be preyed upon despite whatever buffering popularity we might possess at the time. That is why I still tread lightly."

Councilor Estulius reclined in his chair, his mandibles noticeably shifting in disagreement. "Treading lightly can equate 'do-nothingness' in practice, unfortunately."

"Treading lightly does not necessarily indicate resistance to progress," she disputed. "It is more so _gradualism_ , for progress is very much present—I am simply not forcible or rash in its implementation."

"Well to the non-asari races, your politics can appear quite _glacial_ , if I may say so, even to the staunch and rigid turians," he said, half-meaning to keep the thought to himself, but when the remark inspired Tevos to send cold disapprobation in her gaze at him, he spoke again to change the subject. "But I suppose we all bring much-needed diversity. And pertaining to your fears... I still strive to reassure you that little harm would find you regardless of what actions we decide on. You've served the Council races well, and veraciously. I can't recall there being any records of any particularly nasty words against you from anyone of consequence."

She forced a small smile as she received his devised complement. It faded almost immediately.

_Veracious_. That term echoed in her head. How accurate was that statement in reality? Tevos had an excellent reputation—for a politician—and Estulius was correct about the scarcity of harsh criticism directed toward her. That may have been the result of people targeting the Council in its entirety when expressing their disdain, thus diffusing the injury across three separate recipients, but letters from angry citizens reached them regularly, and Tevos seemed to be the one who received the least contempt. Was that only because of her _gradualism_ , giving the public few opportunities to cry out against sudden changes, or because of her inveterate avoidance of getting herself into trouble, or situations wherein trouble was easily found? Or was it because of her talent in skillfully maneuvering herself, hiding things, and slipping away after doing something questionable without drawing any calumny? Was it only discretion that had forged her likable persona?

"I will seriously consider your plan, Councilor," said Tevos. "But aside from our... plotting... I've brought a bit of good news. The Alunigen B2 drug trade is being monitored, and its roots seem to have been found. I'll forward you and Councilor Forlan the information and evidence shortly, but I suppose it would be proper to discuss my general findings now. Our gaze is shifting from Omega to a planet within batarian space called Camala."

"Well, excellent work," Estulius said. "I know you've been managing the bulk of that investigation, so the credit is primarily yours. And your Spectres', of course. Who made the discovery?"

She parted her lips as if to speak, but hesitated. Upon examination of the evidence she would send him, he would find that Aria had been their ally in the whole ordeal. She would not be able to conceal that from him, so she answered truthfully, "The evidence was passed onto me by Aria T'Loak of Omega."

He gave an amused scoff. "And you attempted to reprimand me for _my_ selection of allies..."

"Omega is not precisely an ally," Tevos quickly clarified. "Legally, we have only signed a pact to cease hostilities."

"Yet Aria T'Loak has helped you? How is that not indicative of at least a rudimentary alliance?"

She was silent for a few seconds, searching for accurate words. "It was not _help_ , per se, but more of a... business transaction."

"How did she benefit from it?" he inquired, not accusingly, but with genuine curiosity. "What could you possibly give her in exchange?"

"Nothing which could ever compromise the Citadel's security, I assure you," she answered, taking care to implement a veneer of slight levity over her untrue reply. "I negotiated with High Command. Received their permission to trade items of intelligence, so you'll be pleased to know that Omega has not gained access to any of your people's secrets."

He nodded, reflecting the same trace of humor. "I know I've made a point of this before, but you asari are quite peculiar to turians. You treat your enemies like friends—at least, how we would treat our friends. You invite them to dinner to discuss your differences as if your mutual dislike itself holds some sort of intrinsic value... That's something my culture has immense difficulty comprehending. With turians, you're either a friend or a foe; there is no in-between. It's rather fascinating, don't you think?"

"Yes," she quietly agreed.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

A short cab ride brought Liselle to her destination: a warehouse erected in a quieter, peripheral sector of the Kima District. As previously instructed in the brief note left by Aria, she exited the cab a few blocks away from the warehouse and continued the rest of her journey on foot. The streets composing her path were conspicuously empty compared to other areas Liselle had visited prior. There was no bustling foot traffic, no persistent beggars or seedy nomadic vendors to fend off. Every passerby was some brand of nondescript hurrying past, occupied with their own agendas and not bothering to spare Liselle a glance. She vaguely wondered what sort of industries and residents the area generally contained, as the surrounding environment practically radiated arcane conduct, but for what reasons? There was no law enforcement to evade, and Aria rarely intervened in the business of others. She definitely spied on them, but she would never take them out unless they were causing harm to her own operations.

The strangely elevated secrecy of the region made it quite the suitable location for her mother's assembly, the maiden thought. Because the area was suspended in clandestine activity, a sudden influx of mercenary-like visitors would go relatively unnoticed, likely seen as nothing more than another unfolding operation of some local drug lord or feudal gang.

After a short trek through a tunnel-alley whose entrance was emblazoned with glowing hologram directions to nearby locations, Liselle emerged into a wider area; a foreboding, lonely, massive garage bordered by many separate warehouses, all identical in appearance with discrepancy solely occurring in the blocky red numbers stamped above their large metal doors. She recalled the number from her mother's note, _347_ , and while searching for the matching warehouse, Liselle failed to notice the pair of hulking krogan standing around an entrance. Just when she identified it as her destination, one of the krogan barked out to her, "You gonna come in or are you just gonna gawk all day?"

Her gaze immediately dropped from the red numbers above, now focusing on the pair of guards. They had obviously been appointed by Aria to prevent any undesirable company from attending the briefing.

"Don't call her over," reprimanded the other krogan, harshly jabbing an elbow at his partner. "How do we even know she's on the list? Hardly even looks like mercenary material. You _idiot._ " He turned to look at Liselle. "Never mind him, kid. Just get out of here."

Liselle stood statuesque for a moment, gathering her wits again, and spoke while approaching the two. "Actually," she said, falling under their looming shadows, "I do intend to go in."

The two krogan exchanged equally bemused glances. The one on the left folded his thick arms while the other replied to Liselle, "Really? _You_ were invited here?"

She nodded.

He made an annoyed, grumbling sound from deep within his throat while leering at her with tremendous suspicion. "All right," he decided, bringing up his omni-tool. "Hold still." As he waved the device in front of the girl for a quick scan and to check if her ID corresponded with those on the list his boss had given him, the other guard's folded arms disengaged to lay a cautious hand on the heavy shotgun strapped to his lower back. "Looks like you're in," the krogan said as his omni-tool faded from sight.

His accomplice deeply frowned as they stepped aside to grant Liselle entry. He smashed his fist against the lock to open the door, and as she passed through, she could hear him gruffly mutter to the other guard, "Aria's really scraping the bottom of the barrel these days, huh?"

An indignant crease formed in Liselle's brow as she made to turn around at the comment, but the door had shut behind her again before she could even consider issuing a bold rebuttal. Her attention was instead forced back to the warehouse's comfortably spacious interior. Off-white light emitted from sources high in the ceiling bathed the cold, industrial area like little suns, their rays catching flecks of dust and diffusing through wafting plumes and tendrils of cigarette smoke rising from the mercenaries idling around and sitting at portable tables in their complementing chairs. The population was an impressive menagerie of various races and faculties, and Liselle estimated the total number currently occupying the warehouse to fall within the range of three to four dozen. All were clad in armor and gear while carrying their personal arsenals on their backs and sides.

As she tentatively lost herself within their sea, searching for a niche in which she could idle as well without drawing too much attention, she scanned their faces. Countenances were adorned with scars, diverse styles of war paint, tattoos, and she noted a number of visors with sophisticated interfaces. Their presence instilled a sense of humble awe within her, brought on at being considered _among_ these mercenaries rather than aside.

These people were Aria's elites—her hand-chosen flock of special agents; all talented, presumably loyal, and resourceful enough to be entrusted with gathering intelligence in the most treacherous and savage districts of Omega, all to aid their queen and her kingdom. Their shared mission would be the ultimate test of their cunning and discretion. A trial to gauge their aptitudes and possibly win them mountains of credits or a coveted position in Aria's administration by the end, if they were successful.

During her survey of the warehouse, she made unintentional contact with a batarian man whose arm rammed into her shoulder as she was navigating through the people with her gaze cast elsewhere for a careless instant.

"You lost?" he sneered at her while looking back at her from over his shoulder. Two slanted markings of red war paint beneath his lower pair of eyes twisted into his glare. When he turned away again, he shook his head in disapproval.

Liselle said nothing to him as he disappeared back into the small crowd, thinking little of the incident and refusing to allow it to dent her pride. So far, no one had believed that she belonged there. But it was not enough to turn her around, and never enough to deter her from pursuing a life of her own making. Reconsidering her commitment was not an option.

_What would Mother think of me, if I turned back?_ She asked herself while squeezing past a pair of drell impeding her course of passage, both standing tall and dire with unsettling, dark flitting eyes that were, to Liselle, reminiscent of an asari about to initiate a meld. _She would sentence me to confinement again. I'd be put back in the apartment as usual to continue the process of slowly going insane. I'll do anything if it keeps me from returning to that._

At last Liselle found a bare spot along one wall to linger in. She pressed her back to the metal and remained relatively still over the next indeterminate amount of time, contentedly entertaining herself with more people-watching.

Apparently, her designated teammates were among the observed numbers, lurking in anonymity and leaving Liselle to only speculate whom she would be working alongside. Would it be that green-plated krogan rudely shoving a batarian out of his way? She privately cringed at the thought. Or what about the salarian giving an abrupt laugh a few long paces away as he conversed with a small group of other mercenaries? He certainly came off as more amicable than the krogan, Liselle mused. She proceeded to envision herself collaborating with a variety of persons and combinations, determining how well they would likely fare, and even considering the probability of ending up partnered with—who her first impressions deemed as—favorable operatives. The odds were not comforting. Rather, they created a slowly-growing pit of dread within her stomach.

She was pulled from her thoughts as a sudden wave of silence washed over the room, originating at one corner and steadily sweeping across the many bodies. Mass attention was being redirected to a point off near an indomitable wall of huge metal containers stacked at the back of the warehouse, their contents unknown and their state immobile without the aid of heavy machinery or a few cooperating biotics. An upward gaze would bring to a spectator the sight of a familiar silhouette ascending to a perch atop a foremost container with a biotically-enhanced jump. Fingers grasped the edge of the container, followed by a smooth, effortless vault which brought the asari to her chosen stage.

Liselle peeled herself away from the wall, seeking a more central position. Her comparatively lean stature enabled her to traverse the small routes between operatives, and before long she reached a suitable position within the congregation.

From above where she paced atop the container, boots eliciting soft metallic taps with every step taken, Aria cast her frightening leer down at them all, sizing up her miniature army with predatory diligence. Her outward presentation was flawless, stance brimming with every ounce of power she might have lost over the past few days, and the dark illness pooling in her sockets had completely evaporated like waning shadows at the dawn's approach. And like dawn itself, white was the unmistakable jacket once again adorning her shoulders—white like light, sunlight, although not manifesting in its usual incarnation associated with benevolence. This white was pure imposing dominion; harsh, commanding, and unrelenting like its wearer.

Without ceasing her leisurely pacing, Aria spoke. "As you all know," she said, projecting her voice so that it reached every corner of the building, "we have an… _infestation_. Vermin in my territory, in _my_ syndicate. Pathetic little creatures entertaining delusions of overthrowing my rule." She issued a trenchant scoff, but her wrath managed to leak through the sound. She resumed, "I don't have time to deal with this pestilence. That's where you all come in."

She faced them all, steps coming to a halt. "Our enemy does not want to be found. They lurk in the lowest echelons of Omega, employing methods of assassination and infiltration rather than risking open war with us. I want these people found and eliminated."

The cruel arrival of Aria's words kept them all still and attentive.

"You are some of the best operatives currently employed to me," Aria bestowed them a rare compliment. "But that also means I will expect the highest quality results from you. Failure is not tolerable, because in this special case, failure equates massive damages to my organization. And I will not have that."

As Liselle watched her mother along with many others surrounding her, she noticed something severely malevolent creeping into Aria's already fearsome gaze. It was unlike anything she could ever remember seeing in her face, not even when she was furious. It was positively foreboding, and sent subduing chills of fear and apprehension crawling along Liselle's skin, and by judging by the subtle trepidation rising on the features of the operatives around her, they were similarly affected.

"I will burn and purge many of these streets clean before I let them fall to our enemy," Aria resumed. "With this fact established, one would arrive at the conclusion that many lives are being placed in your hands. But you don't care about that." She smiled knowingly. "You care about your rewards, like most sensible people do. Rest assured; victory will secure you handsome compensation for your efforts, because as we know… when I win, everyone else wins. Now let's get to the details. Squads have been organized prior to today, each containing three to four people, and each was contrived based on the dossiers of every individual. You will find yourself working with those we deemed most compatible with your skill sets and dispositions. Keep in mind that you'll possibly be working with this team for quite a while. And if you find yourself unable to get along with your squad, you _will_ upset me. Over the next few minutes you will all receive the names of your teammates, truncated versions of each other's dossiers, and specific orders from me. Read my orders first. When you've done that, contact your teammates, set up a rendezvous point for you to meet, and get started."

Aria paused, observing the slight restless aspect developing in the assemblage. "I'm pleased to see your eagerness," she noted, "but I have a final statement to make. A warning."

Their uneasiness quelled, and undivided attention was instantly recaptured.

Aria was calm and collected as she closed her briefing with a threat, "A warning to all traitors or enemy spies that may be present here today: I _will_ find you."

The finality, the absolute certainty in her own words sapped any and all levity from the atmosphere, replacing it with her otherworldly imminence; the sense of inevitability, of sealed fate that heightened one's awareness of their own mortality.

"I _will_ find you, and I _will_ personally deal with you," she reassured them, deceptively gentle. She no longer required an assertive intonation. The devices to instill tremendous terror were already there, masterfully imbued in the simple words passing through her lips. "Now go."

Aria hopped down from her improvised stage and was immediately joined by a duo of well-armed guards who flanked her while she departed. Liselle watched her disappear as the crowd reanimated around her, moving, chattering, and awaiting the promised messages to arrive in their inboxes.

Liselle had read and watched old recordings of public speeches Aria had given, and she had always been impressed with her mother's speaking talent and ability to captivate audiences. She promised them freedom, protection from enemy factions, and nothing more. She guarded their rapturous chaos, their right to determine and manage their lives however they saw fit. And as they did as they pleased, so long that it did not perturb Aria, she would sit back and watch the station rotate without attempting to tame it. She didn't need to tame it. Aria and Omega persisted in a beautifully symbiotic relationship wherein she preserved its lawless glory.

But it was so peculiar, that although Aria always reinforced the concept of her absolute sovereignty over all who listened, openly denying them the equality granted to democracies, she still was able to keep their favor. Did the people of Omega not see Aria as a tyrant, based on her modes of administration? When Liselle began studying forms of government years previously, it initially baffled her. She strove to understood, for after reading about countless revolts throughout recorded galactic history, she feared her mother may eventually suffer the same fate.

Was that what was happening now? What was the motive of their enemy? Were they attacking Aria for ideological reasons, or were they merely another faction greedy for power? It must have been a blend of the two, Liselle thought. Their vehement disdain for Aria's syndicate could not have been borne from simple greed—no, it came from somewhere deeper. Somewhere emotional, political, _ideological_. Otherwise they would not have bothered with assassinating her administration so… horrifically. They were making a statement. They were saying something to all of Omega, all who heard the whispers of _someone_ killing off powerful and prized officers in bizarre albeit fitting manners.

The more Liselle thought on the subject, the more she realized that their enemy's anonymity would soon give them power. To the population, the assassins were unattributed to any specific personage or group, and so they became abstract, intangible, like an idea, a disembodied voice, destined to mingle with the polyphony of Omega's countless others. But at that point, who exactly was speaking, people would wonder? Was it just a person, a group, or Omega in general? So symbolic were the previous deaths, so full of denouncement, that they seemed heavier in meaning than any normal demise brought on by the petty, avaricious feuding of rival factions.

It was all manifesting into a crusade, of sorts. Poisonous doctrine; the resonating statement of _Aria T'Loak must fall_ , leading to station-wide conjecture and reevaluation of their current state and 'leadership'.

What verdict would Omega reach? Had it grown tired of her? Had Aria's time expired, ended, like all things eventually did?

It could not be so. Omega would surely preserve its de facto queen—she was more suited to hold power than anyone, anyone at all.

When Liselle checked her omni-tool, she realized she had received a message while she was pondering. Now against another wall and out of the way of traffic, she opened the message and began to read her orders.

.

TO: LISELLE KASANTIS  
FROM: ARIA T'LOAK  
SUBJECT: TEAM EINGANA  
ATTACHMENT: DOSS. M.L., DOSS. R.V., DOSS. L.K.

Your team is to be identified as Eingana for as long as your unit is needed.

As you've probably discerned already, I want you using Iaera's surname around your teammates. Since this name is on official records, they'll have access to it. Any other alias will make your identity appear suspicious.

I'm sending you their dossiers and a copy of your own, which I'm sending to them. Make sure to read it as soon as you can, because this is who they'll think you are. Also, I'm giving you much more information about your team than what they're receiving about you. DO NOT let them know that you are aware of their backgrounds—only their basic profiles and skills are supposedly available to you.

They'll be contacting you soon to organize a rendezvous point. After you meet up, send confirmation my way, and you'll receive your first task. But before you leave the warehouse, speak to the requisitions officer standing near some crates along the southern wall. Give him your name. I've reserved something for you, in case you find yourself in any trouble. Delete this message after you've finished reading it and saved the dossiers to your omni-tool.

Good luck.

.

The maiden did as she was told; first saving the files containing the dossiers, then glancing around the warehouse to locate the requisitions officer. He was a turian surrounded by a few guards, and a short line of operatives had formed leading up to his position. Apparently Aria had a few things for other people as well. After deleting the message, Liselle began making her way over to him, her mother's final words lingering in her head: _Good luck._

Liselle filed onto the back of the line, standing behind another asari. While she waited, she browsed her own dossier, taking into account that her age was being stated as one-hundred twelve rather than a truthful fifty-three. That misinformation had likely been installed to deal with her teammates, who would inevitably react poorly to working with someone so painfully young. Her skills were also exaggerated. _Capable biotic_ was hardly how she perceived herself, especially when held in comparison to Aria's best operatives. A dose of worry flooded her veins. If her teammates were to fall under the impression that she was as skilled as her dossier claimed, she would have to meet those expectations or risk being put under suspicion.

When she finished absorbing and memorizing the false data Aria had added to her façade, she moved on to the first dossier of her team. She held her fingertip to the file labeled 'DOSS. M.L.' and prompted the information to display.

.

NAME: MALAK LEKAHN  
SEX: MALE  
RACE: BATARIAN  
AGE: 32

BACKGROUND [CONFIDENTIAL]: Born on Erszbat, grew up on farmlands before joining the Dar'nerah pirate fleet at age 17. Assigned to the liaison-auxiliary sector; fought in the interests of both the fleet and Aria T'Loak's syndicate. Cousin of the deceased Olat Dar'nerah. Father was Gotol Lekahn and mother was Anhera [Dar'nerah] Lekahn, younger sibling of Ralot Dar'nerah. Upon Olat Dar'nerah's death, subject lost his cousin's favoritism, protection, and monetary benefits. Now exclusively works for Aria T'Loak.

APTITUDES: Knowledgeable of firearms and explosives, excels in direct assaults. Experienced pirate.

.

Liselle's initial reaction to the brief dossier was one of confusion. Why assign a pirate to a reconnaissance operation? Was someone of his ilk even well-practiced enough in stealth to participate? She tried not to preemptively condemn the man. After all, Aria had selected him for the missions. But for what purpose? One possible explanation made Liselle anxious: did Aria expect them to encounter violence? She didn't like that particular speculation. For one point, it meant that her mother might have been weighing down their team in an effort to protect Liselle, and for another... the expectation of violence was unsettling by itself.

Before she could access the last dossier to find out who was counterbalancing their ally's skill set, Liselle discovered that it was her turn to speak to the requisitions officer. She lowered her omni-tool and met the turian's eyes.

"Name?" he asked her, arms folded in exasperation with his job.

"Liselle Kasantis," she said, gaze flitting from him to the two guards standing around the crates.

The turian held up a datapad to check his list, scrolling down to find the given name and what item was attributed to it. When he found it, his bored expression transmuted into mild amusement. "Well aren't you lucky?" he remarked, turning around to sift through a crate containing well-organized rows of firearms. While he searched, Liselle heard him comment again, "What I wouldn't give for one of these things..."

He presented the weapon to her. Liselle spent a moment staring at it as if it were either a live grenade or made of solid gold. The firearm was a new sleek submachine gun, and when she took it in hand and lifted it away from the requisitions officer, she examined the light yet strong metals composing its impressively compact body and marveled at the elegant design.

"Latest model," said the requisitions officer. "One of those new guns that don't require reloading—just make sure to stagger sprays of fire so it doesn't overheat, and you're good to go. You can shoot for several days straight without having to replace the ammunition block. Keep that beauty safe, my friend." He shook his head, wondering why fate had handed some wide-eyed asari such a quality weapon while he was stuck using fossils. When the girl departed, still dazzled by the firearm in her hands, he motioned for the next person in line to approach.

Liselle fitted the gun into the holster it came with, reached back, and securely fastened it near her pistol. It was a welcomed gift, but she prayed that she would never enter a circumstance where its utilization would be required. At least, not for quite a while. When she finished making a small adjustment to the holster, giving it a final tug to assess its reliability, a chirp from her omni-tool alerted her of another incoming message.

The identification of the sender was none other than the batarian man she had just read about. She opened his message, reading what he had sent: _East Gozu District, Perzan's [shoddy little street restaurant]. Confirm if it's an acceptable location. If not, give your reason and suggest somewhere else._

A quick extranet search for the name yielded the exact location. She had no qualms about the chosen spot, so she replied to Malak's message with a brief affirmative, _Sounds good, I'll be there._

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Liselle found herself within the dark interior of another cab before long, peering out the window at the flashes of burning light and shadow as the vehicle soared between spires, heading for the Gozu District. She relaxed in her seat, taking measures to become comfortable for the remainder of the trip so apprehension would not consume her.

She had no idea how her squad would receive her. Would they be easy to work with, or would they immediately give her trouble when they detected her greenness? Surely Aria would not have paired her up with brutes.

She reprimanded herself for that thought. _I'm not supposed to be depending on her to keep me safe anymore,_ she thought. _I can't just change my mind whenever I feel scared. Either I want her help or I don't, and I've already let her know that I don't. It's too late to go back on my word._

Liselle abruptly remembered that she had yet to read the other dossier of her remaining teammate. Seeing is as an opportunity to soothe her jumpy nerves, she preoccupied herself with accessing it from her omni-tool and scanning over the meager lines of text.

.

NAME: RASMA VISIOM  
SEX: FEMALE  
RACE: TURIAN  
AGE: 34

BACKGROUND [CONFIDENTIAL]: Widow of Aetius Visiom, to whom she was married for nearly a decade. Has worked in intelligence for fifteen years. Parentage and place of birth undisclosed. No children.

APTITUDES: Excels at infiltration in all areas; technological as well as stealth operations. Formidable in combat.

.

There was even less information about this person as there had been about Malak, Liselle mused, but the supplementary notes on Rasma Visiom's background must have been incredibly relevant if Aria had passed them onto her.

_Visiom_. She recognized that name. It belonged to Aria's former right-hand lieutenant, who was among those assassinated. Liselle then remembered Malak's blood connection to Olat Dar'nerah—another murdered officer of Aria's. Therefore, both of her assigned teammates held something in common: a slaughtered family member, and Liselle discovered that when she inserted herself in the equation, she also shared some degree of pain found in nearly losing her mother. The trio, though remarkably disparate from what she gathered from their dossiers, intersected at that single point. This was undoubtedly arranged by Aria's volition. But for what purpose, and why let Liselle know about it? That was the prevailing question.

Had Aria intentionally recruited them solely based on their commonality, to somehow use their shared personal grudges against the enemy to her advantage? The despair felt from losing someone dear didn't guarantee incorruptible loyalty to Aria, but it certainly helped the odds. But how did Aria expect Liselle to use this information? To reassure her that her teammates were trustworthy?

When the cab neatly descended into a designated landing area, Liselle paid and exited the vehicle. She emerged in the Gozu District, feet touching down on a somewhat familiar street crowded by the comings and goings of innumerable denizens. She had been in this area before, albeit months ago and while under the protection of Aria's commandos. While most of the Gozu District was residential, the peripheral twisting streets connecting it to other districts were lined with small shops. And, evidently, the rendezvous point Malak Lekahn had selected for them.

After following the directions she had memorized when looking up her destination, Liselle found herself on a long, narrow street bordered by mediocre stands and kiosks amid what she perceived to be miniature alleys of debris, perhaps from abandoned or pending structural expansion projects; rope, netting, upright stacks of metal beams propped against walls. Indistinct junk, as far as Liselle could see. She lifted her stare to the buzzing, glowing signs installed above each individual outlet and food stall. The alien letters, subtitled by smaller translations in various languages, blazed in industrial yellows against the rust-colored, low-hanging roofs upon which they were mounted. The foot traffic remained in significant torrents even within the cramped passage. She took care to avoid collisions while searching the signs by regularly returning her eyes to her path, only glancing downward once when her steps found a metal grating over the street, eliciting a sudden jarring, metallic clank as its loose frame pressed onto the ledges beneath holding it in place.

Store owners called out to passers-by, seeking their custom, and within the avenue of flowing potential customers itself, a sense of complete anonymity settled over their bodies. No one knew where anyone else was going, nor did anyone seem to care. It was a strange social dynamic to Liselle, who was used to company whose agendas were generally open and accessible, save for Aria's, of course. Here one could so easily disappear, in great contrast to the ceaseless monitoring Liselle had been subjected to her entire life. She was gone. She was no one until she decided to make herself known—and it was liberating.

At last she located the correct stall, _Perzan's;_ a small, compact restaurant situated in a branched-off cul-de-sac at the end of the long street. Stationary seats wrapped around the counter at which food was served and eaten, and at the time of Liselle's arrival, approximately half were occupied by customers. She took a seat to remove herself from the river of people, examining her surroundings and watching clouds of steam rising from the kitchen and dissipating into the air around her. As she did, a sudden commotion originating from an alley dividing the restaurant and its neighboring kiosk reached her in a series of shouts and a crash. Few others seated at the counter bothered giving it any attention, which Liselle found quite peculiar, especially as the ireful words gradually became more distinct.

"Get the _hell_ out of here!"

A small band of vorcha escaped the alley in a hurry, fleeing their batarian attacker who had drawn a gun on them. The vorcha hissed racial slurs and profanities over their shoulders before trudging off into the shifting mass of traveling bodies.

"I've had enough of them," the man said bitterly to one of the cooks leaning over the edge of the counter to watch the vorcha leave while hearing what his coworker had to report. "When I said _no handouts_ I didn't think that translated into an invitation to come in and steal our stocks instead."

The other employee gave a wry, ephemeral smile. "Shoot them next time," he impartially suggested, pushing away from the counter and returning back to work.

The remaining man fumed for a moment, glaring hatefully at the crowds before turning around and heading back in direction from where he had previously emerged.

Liselle had become entranced with the whole scene, paradoxically wondering why no one seemed to care in slightest about the incident, but also understanding that general apathy toward other people was deeply embedded in Omega's culture. It brought her back to the bizarre sense of anonymity washing over her as she faded into the crowds. Truly, that seemed to be the quintessence of Omega; apathy for all things irrelevant to oneself and their immediate interests.

It was so very foreign despite being the culture of her home. Liselle had only before lived in a separate micro-community usually containing her mother, Iaera, Zuria, and a handful of commandos whose presence varied. Within that family, _everyone_ was involved in her business. She had become so accustomed to submitting reports about her present existence that it was immensely outlandish to witness a distinct lack of concern radiating from nearly everyone she passed. No commandos were hovering over her shoulder or cautiously watching the surrounding people for any signs of trouble. No one was doing that for anyone else, either.

She found herself quite conflicted. It was a bit sad, seeing the endless sea of Omegans willingly confined to their own spheres of reality, utterly disinterested in all which did not concern them, and only reacting when some event penetrated their sphere. But it was also... soothing. _Liberating_ ; she retrieved the word she had chosen just a few minutes previously. To be free from constant scrutiny, to no longer be held under the harsh beacon-lights cast by the gazes of her guardians. Was it really so bad to live one's life for oneself, and solely for oneself?

Her musings came to an end when she noticed the large grey outline of an elcor approaching her from the opposite side of the counter. When he spoke, his voice came monotonously, completely devoid of any intonation:

"Mildly contrite: I apologize for the wait. A minor incident demanded my attention. Would you like to order something to eat?"

Liselle stared at him with wide blue eyes, only issuing her tardy reply after a long span of silence which lasted beyond what was generally considered socially adept. "Oh, no thank you. Maybe in a bit, though."

He blinked his dark eyes at her, but there were no facial cues to give the action any context. "With standard courtesy: You are welcome to loiter here as long as other seats remain open for new customers. If you decide to place an order, just let me know."

She thanked him before he diverted his attention to other customers. While he busied himself with taking their orders, Liselle cast her gaze along the seats, craning her neck to scan each of their faces tinted by the warm yellow glow of the restaurant's sign hanging just overhead. At the very end of the row, she noticed a batarian sitting far away from everyone else, tending to a bowl of what Liselle suspected to be thick stew. He was suited up in light mercenary armor, decorated by bold, symmetrical sections of black, brown, and red paint, varying across the chest, arms, and sides—a popular style among batarians, she recalled. He, like so many others, had shut himself off from everything outside his personal orb, and was content to devour his meal without any further interactions with the environment or anyone within it. Liselle rose from her seat and began to travel toward him on a hunch, aiming to break through his fortress with the halberd of speech.

When she tentatively sat down beside him, the man neglected to pay her any heed at all. She peered over at him, wondering if he could be her teammate Malak—he was certainly dressed for the job, and his stature was appropriately athletic. There was a significant chance that he was indeed Malak, and so Liselle decided to test that chance by audibly clearing her throat.

He lifted his four eyes from his bowl, appearing annoyed, and turned to face her. However, the first thing she noticed about him was not his irritation, but the angry, slanted red lines of war paint—or were they tattoos?—drawn across his cheekbones. It was the same batarian from the warehouse; the one she had accidentally bumped into. Her eyes widened with realization, as did his as the two mutually recognized one another.

"Oh, _great_ ," he muttered, shaking his head while turning away. "It's _you_."

Liselle would have normally taken offense, but she was currently too stunned to process the intended insult. "You're Malak?"

He gave a reluctant nod, succeeded by a trenchant, distant question in response, "And you're Liselle, huh?" After lifting a spoonful of the diced meat in the stew to his mouth, he spent a moment chewing to issue another string of words without impeding his speech. "Just the turian left, then."

The maiden remained stationary, watching him consume a few more bites before speaking again. "Why did you choose this location?" she asked out of curiosity.

He shrugged, and without looking at her, replied, "Wanted to grab a quick lunch."

Liselle nodded, solemnly accepting the high unlikelihood of getting anything more out of the man. What an unfortunate turn of events, she thought. It hadn't been one hour yet and they had already managed to start off on the wrong foot. Or maybe this _Malak_ guy always carried around that disposition. Hopefully the importance of their mission, Aria's promises of something decidedly _bad_ happening if they refused to collaborate, and the large monetary rewards waiting for them to claim would serve as enough motivation to inspire camaraderie. In an afterthought, she added, _Eventually_.

Rather than wasting her time trying to elicit any further conversation from her standoffish ally, Liselle turned around, sat backward on her seat, and searched the protean flow of people for female turians, and of those she detected, one who resembled the impression she got from reading Rasma Visiom's dossier. Minutes passed before Liselle caught sight of a silhouette making her way over to them; tall and lean, clad in light armor bearing dark, ominous hues. As she neared, a naturally dire structure of plating which composed her face's carapace came into view as well as streaks of sharp green designs proudly displaying her colony of origin.

The asari rose from her seat, intending to expedite their meeting by ascertaining whether the woman was their final teammate, and if she was, bringing her into their forming trio. Before she could accost her, however, the turian woman's eyes were suddenly overcome by a cryptic, nearly hostile expression, but she did not prevent Liselle from speaking.

"Are you Rasma?" Liselle asked when she was within range. She extended her hand. "I'm Liselle."

The turian came to a halt, saying nothing at first and rejecting her gesture. While maintaining the same subtle irritability in her countenance, she motioned to Liselle, directing her to join her in a quiet corner of the alley where traffic did not touch. She glanced back at Malak, who was now watching with utmost caution from over his shoulder. Liselle withdrew her hand and followed her a few paces in the indicated direction.

As soon as the turian reached the spot she was focusing on, she turned, lowered her voice to a dangerous volume, and said to Liselle, "Do _not_ approach me so brazenly."

Liselle eyed her with confusion and surprise. "What? Why not? No one's listening; no one's even _watching_. They'd notice us talking over here before they'd spare us a glance anywhere else."

Rasma shook her head contemptuously. "You don't seem to understand. Omega has eyes _everywhere_. That's why we're in this entire mess in the first place—because no one thought they were being watched, listened to... No, this is a bad spot to talk. Too stationary. We need to get moving. Right now. Is that Malak Lekahn?" She discreetly gestured toward Malak, who was still peering at them suspiciously from his seat.

"Yes," Liselle confirmed.

The turian made a beckoning motion at him. Malak glared but acquiesced after scarfing down a few more bites and paying for his meal. The very moment he joined them, Rasma began walking off back into the bustling streets, wasting no time on introductions and instead focusing on sending something through her omni-tool. Liselle assumed it was the message to Aria notifying her of an assembled team ready for further orders. Matching Rasma's steps required a brisk pace and enough agility to weave through the ever-shifting crevices between people obscuring their path. Before long, Malak was speaking up.

"So what are we expected to do first? The boss doesn't exactly hand out information liberally, but this is strange even for her. Does she expect us to just wander aimlessly around until she decides what to do with us or something?"

"For now, yes," Rasma blandly replied while glancing back at him. "Unless she sent you anything that said otherwise."

"All right, fine. I've just been getting strange vibes about this mission—the way it's been set up. Hardly any details, splicing weird squads together..."

"So ours is weird in comparison to others? You know about others?"

"Eh—no," he said. "I just find it odd that she thinks bringing people like us together is going to get her results. I mean really; I didn't exactly volunteer for this shit. I was more or less recruited since my job's gone fucking bad—" He suddenly stopped on that note, rerouting his sentence. "But anyway, I'm a merc. Not a private investigator. I don't do that crap and I don't know much about it. Now you ask me to blow something up or kill a man, that I can do without a hitch. And you... Visiom, right? You're the sort who she should've sent on this. Not people like me. And look." He shamelessly jabbed a thumb in Liselle's direction. "This girl obviously doesn't know what she's getting into."

"Excuse me?" Liselle bristled.

"You heard me," said Malak. "I bet you've never done a day of mercenary work in your life. Just look at the way you're walking around like you've never seen these streets before, like you're totally lost, not having the slightest _clue_..."

"I've had _decades_ of commando training," Liselle boldly retorted while dodging around a few people in her way. "I've been developing my skills longer than you've been _alive_."

"And over those decades, just how many people have you killed?"

Liselle's confidence drained from her heart all at once, but she forced an empowered lie from her lips, "Three."

Malak shook his head at her. "No you haven't."

"Oh yeah? How can you tell?"

"You don't _get it_ ," Malak said, the severity of his voice swiftly increasing. "You just don't get any of this. I can tell, just by watching the way you act. And it's pretty fucking insulting to hear you trying to equate yourself with people like us, people who have actually _lived_ through shit you can't even imagine. How are you even here? What the hell sort of game is Aria playing?"

Rasma stepped into the developing fight, but whether it was done in Liselle's defense, to stop their annoying bickering, or to side with her boss was unknown. "If Aria sent her on this mission, it was with good reason. Aria _never_ does anything without good reason. Even if we can't comprehend her decision, we have to accept it. What if Liselle's a biotic prodigy, Lekahn? She might lack in experience, but for all we know she could be just as valuable an asset as either of us, and _neither_ of us are biotics." After pausing, she added in a mutter, "And you're a damned idiot if you think your judgement is better than Aria's."

"Hey, I respect Aria just as much as you do," he said as they passed by a few Blood Pack mercenaries trying to sell a group of snarling varren restrained by heavy chains. The beasts struggled and wildly snapped at them to no avail, either receiving kicks in the ribs or harsh tugs on their leashes from their masters whenever their behavior grew too frenzied for their convenience. After Malak dismissively waved an arm at them to communicate their disinterest, he continued, "But you can't expect me to just blindly walk into this blatantly weird situation she's set up for us without asking a few questions."

"Well if you have questions, I'm sure she'd love to hear them," Rasma coldly said. "Just send a message her way. Aria just _adores_ it when her mercs ask her about the sensitive plans she's carefully conceived. Even better—maybe you should outright tell her that you disapprove."

Malak was rendered indignantly silent as their conversation died, and Liselle was left to the dissonance of her thoughts while they continued to trail behind Rasma.

Well that went well, she sarcastically mused. The first impression left by her allies was one of inherent bitterness. Perhaps bitterness with good reason, but bitterness nonetheless. After all, Rasma Visiom had lost her spouse to the assassins, and while Malak may not have viewed his cousin Olat Dar'nerah equally as dearly, he had let slip that his career was in shambles—a pathetic ghost of its former, prosperous state. So _of course_ Malak had expressed his disdain with Liselle. She was just a reminder of what sort of jobs and company he'd been relegated to. And for Rasma, who immediately and vehemently defended Aria's decrees, was likely clutching onto notions of revenge and eagerly taking every opportunity her boss granted her to further that cause. Even under these circumstances, Liselle realized, her teammates, like the rest of Omega, were entranced with their own investments and goals. That could certainly cause them trouble down the line, she grimly thought.

"Hold on," said Rasma, herding them out of the foot traffic and into an unoccupied spot along the wall of the tunnel-street. She was accessing her omni-tool's interface. "We've got our orders... Apparently, our first assignment is being delayed."

"Delayed?" Malak repeated. "What the fuck does that mean? We're not starting today?"

"Yeah, that's what _delayed_ means, Lekahn," she said, sounding exasperated with him. "But she's given us a few other details, at least. How she wants our unit to function. From now on... Liselle receives the orders then relays them to us. As for me, I _send in_ daily reports. Creates a balance of power, I'd assume. You two are also expected to follow my orders when appropriate." She turned the hologram of text to face them, showing proof of her words.

"And what the hell am I supposed to do?" Malak demanded.

"You're supposed to _shut up_ and do as Aria says."

"Wait a moment," Liselle spoke up, impeding their conflict. "Is there any specific reason why our mission is being delayed? Did Aria say anything about that?"

Rasma disengaged from her aggressive exchange with Malak to answer her question, which was of much more importance than bickering. "She didn't give any reasons, but I'd suspect it's because she doesn't want to release us all at once. Might be a little too conspicuous, having all the squads suddenly poking around. She probably wants to deploy us gradually. Give everyone a chance to disperse."

_Or prevent me from doing anything yet,_ Liselle considered in frustration.

"For now..." Rasma continued, "I'd suggest we all go home and meet up again when Aria has something for us."

Malak muttered a few profanities in reaction to their anticlimactic rendezvous being a 'waste of time', angrily placed his hands on his hips, turned away, and seethed. Meanwhile, Liselle's gaze had wandered off toward the busy streets, watching the diverse array of people ceaselessly traveling around like an agitated, fiery sea. As usual, she had no idea about what her mother was thinking or what she intended for them.

They were little ignorant pieces—just little mindless pawns—at Aria's mercy, patiently awaiting for her to put them into play, and to be helplessly arranged however she saw fit. Liselle had always _hated_ and rebelled against that inescapable paradigm even in her own circumstance, which was a highly privileged one indeed. How did constantly living that way suffice for these people? Never knowing, never seeing what fate Aria had assembled for them, and always apprehensively awaiting the day when she would remove the cloth and allow them to discover what lied in store? Did they not desire more?

It abruptly occurred to her that there _were_ other people who shared her dissatisfaction, and when she realized who they were, Liselle felt a surge of chills permeating her entire body.

Their enemy—the assassins—also fought against the order of things. They were restless, tired of decaying within insignificance, growing weary of a narrow existence; crying out and silencing those people who supported and symbolized Aria's elite control of intelligence and material luxuries.

She felt ill, positively _ill,_ and suddenly, Zuria's past words found her conscience:

_"You might come to resent her for some of the things she's done. If that happens, Aria faces a major problem. It will not be her love that has disappeared, but_ yours _. That can spell destruction if your relationship ever becomes feudal. Because, as we both know…the heiress usurps the queen."_


	7. The Patriarch

**PERSONS — "A Celebration of Blood"**

_With the N'Yiria-N'Vani family's public unveil of another rare reunion only occurring every centennial—traditionally followed by a charity ball held the next week for the society-serving organization of the family's choice—speculation revolving about the possible attendance of a few certain high-profile people has already been creeping into household and workplace conversation. Today, Farala N'Yiria has been so generous as to follow the unveiling with a brief interview regarding the unique expectations for this century's gathering in exchange for our endorsement and publication of the charity ball, which all of us encourage readers to attend to help out the galactic community while enjoying a fabulous party._

_In this interview given by our own Enira Lesara to Farala N'Yiria over a vid comm conversation, we address some of the prominent issues on everyone's minds:_

**EL:** I can't thank you enough for your time, Farala.

**FN:** Oh, it's no problem at all, really. I'm more than happy to answer a few questions. This is, after all, an incredible occasion for my family. Its personal importance to me is only overshadowed by my desire to attract guests for the charity ball [laughs]. You must come to that! We'll meet in person then.

**EL:** That certainly sounds lovely! I'll definitely check my calendar and try to clear my schedule for that day. Not to mention hunting for a new dress. Now to my first question. There have been some rumors about Councilor Tevos attending your reunion; the first time your family would have the company of a councilor at this event. Do these rumors hold any water...?

**FN:** They do, in fact. Dear Tevos is indeed invited. She is family after all, so it wouldn't be proper to exclude her. Whether she can attend or not however is a different matter altogether, as I understand being the asari councilor doesn't leave much time for parties.

**EL:** Yes, one can only imagine! Do tell, what does it mean for you and your family, having your... cousin, was it? As the asari councilor?

**FN:** Tevos is a bit further than a first cousin to me. My mother Galieta was a cousin of Theralia, Tevos's mother. The whole relation is complicated. I'm sure you don't want me to go into all that. But in answer to your question: it means quite a lot _to_ us, but I'm not sure about _for_ us. Tevos is an inter-species official while we generally stay on Thessia. I suppose in summary we are immensely proud of her and wish her well, but that is the extent.

**EL:** How would you describe Councilor Tevos's relationship with the rest of her family?

**FN:** Hmm, you'd be better off asking her that question. From my perspective, she's always put distance between us. She's a very independent person, one could say. It's been quite a while since I last saw her.

**EL:** Since the last reunion a century ago, right?

**FN:** No, in fact. Longer than that. We were just maidens, if I recall correctly. Since then, Tevos hasn't made an appearance in any of the reunions. Probably preoccupied with her blossoming career. I used to fear that she discarded our invitations out of some sort of unrequited enmity. I still hope that explanation is untrue, and I profoundly hope to see her again in a few weeks, if just for an afternoon.

**EL:** What other esteemed family and friends are you expecting?

**FN:** Many. I could not list them all, I assure you. But yes, we are a very old family, as one could tell from our name. Over millennia we have accrued many friends and family members, as mathematically expected. I'm actually a bit surprised that you haven't inquired about Councilor Estulius.

**EL:** Oh, I didn't plan to. I understand it's been a... touchy subject lately?

**FN:** I suppose, yes, perhaps. I understand where all the conjecture comes from, and I don't really blame those who remain wary of the association. I usually advise people to look at it this way: a one in a billion chance is still predicted to occur one out of a billion times. Meaning, through all the confusion and chaos of lineage and circumstance, Tevos and the distant descendant of Iona Maevian both found a spot on the Council independently of each other's influence. No, not quite. I amend that fallacy; they _were_ dependent on each other in terms of origin. If they could not be traced to common roots, a 'suspicious' correlation could never have manifested in the first place. I've always marveled at the way we perceive the universe. Trillions of coincidences happen every single day, and yet most go completely unnoticed. But yes, to your readers. Councilor Estulius has been invited and may attend if he wishes. I'd also like to thank everyone's keen senses for detecting his association to Tevos, else we may not have had the chance to meet the good man.

**EL:** Well, that leaves me without any more questions [laughs]. Again, thank you endlessly for your time.

**FN:** It was my pleasure.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

After the discussion between the asari and turian councilors came to a close, Tevos excused herself from Estulius's office, made a trip to the batarian embassy, stole the ambassador away from his current preoccupations, and placed him into a conversation regarding the unfortunate news the councilor had received from Aria T'Loak earlier that day. The man was pleasant, patient, and attentive despite being notified that his homeworld's government would possibly be arraigned if any type of pact between the Hegemony and the drug smugglers was discovered. Instead of becoming defensive or resorting to denial, he took the asari councilor very seriously, listening to every word she issued him while jotting down notes, asking the occasional stray question, and by their conversation's end, the two politicians had arranged for the batarian ambassador to return to his native Khar'shan where he would seek formal audience before that planet's leaders and present to them his information and inquiries. This event would take place within the next week, Tevos was pleased to hear.

Following the conceived arrangement, the asari councilor's stress receded to manageable amounts, but there still remained the anxiety of possibly finding the Council at odds with the Batarian Hegemony if their response was ill. The malevolent concern followed her for the rest of the work day, even distracting her from remembering to update Aria on the situation until just an hour before she left for home. Of course, Tevos was still a little bitter at Aria for addressing her as if she were another one of her thugs. Tevos actually considered the idea of leaving out details or construing facts in a way that would make them nebulous just to spite Aria. But she decided that spite was a child's game, and turning to juvenile means would only indicate a pathetic inability to properly handle the difficult and severely aloof Aria T'Loak. So she sent an unabridged report to her and awaited a reply, but one didn't arrive until the waning final minutes of the twenty-hour day when Tevos was comfortably in her apartment, relaxing in bed with an e-book and few glasses of wine in hopes to remove the corrosive effects of stress still lingering in her body.

She was reading an old asari-authored book first published millennia ago when her omni-tool sounded its familiar chime to announce the arrival of a new message. Tevos finished her current section before opening it, quickly scanning over the final sentences:

_And thus we cannot afford to seal ourselves away to private enclaves of thought, for when our voices sound alone, there is no one to respond to it, no one to validate its weight or to provoke much-needed discourse. Discourse is the mother of progress; an idea is met by another, which shall have some effect, and another idea is sent forth, and another, another, until a new verdict is reached by the participants. To exist among others is to be put on trial, and although we naturally fear that, how else would people be made aware of their relation to the world? Alone, we are voiceless islands, doomed to stagnate, mutate, and warp into context-deprived insanity, for a voice spoken to none of its dialectic ilk is doomed to nonexistence regardless of how loud its bearer screams to the heavens._

Tevos touched the interface of her tablet to insert a bright violet bookmark, then transferred her attention to her omni-tool. After setting her glass of wine safely aside onto her nightstand, she proceeded to read Aria's response to the given information.

_I've received your message,_ Aria wrote. _Confirmation only comes now due to excessive preoccupation._

"Excessive preoccupation," Tevos quietly and absently repeated, wondering what Aria had meant by that. As usual, Aria was horrendously vague about her personal business, but Tevos wasn't sure if she was exactly put off by that. When she thought about it, she decided she really didn't want to know about everything Aria was up to, which was apparently a lot of things as evidenced by her phrasing. However, Tevos was able to detect something else within the meager words: data on Aria's current state. If she was busy, she was probably also healthy.

Tevos entered her reply, _Feeling better, then?_

After sending it, she paused to reconsider what she had said, and whether it was appropriate to say. Was the quip too friendly? Was it unprofessional, or did that not matter? Was she expected to uphold professionalism with Aria like she was with other diplomatic correspondents?

Aria was not a conventional contact. The necessity to preserve a reputable impression was borne from their pride, not from any erected protocols. And formalities were not imperative, despite Tevos's deeply-ingrained habit to utilize them anyway. They alone determined the conversational climate whenever they spoke, and they rarely policed casual tones. As far as Tevos could remember, she only demanded civility and respect. It was quite peculiar, for out of every person Tevos regularly spoke to, Irissa was the sole other who enjoyed informality with her. But what did that make Aria? A friend? _Goddess, no… Well, perhaps?_

While Tevos was lost to her thoughts, yet another reply found her inbox:

_Yes, actually. I still can't believe you've gotten yourself into this mess. All this trouble over a simple aphrodisiac is not just ridiculous_ — _it's stupid. Risking your relations to an entire people's society, and for what? To stop people from having a good time? If you're worried about health ramifications, everyone's going to die eventually. The least you could do for your people is allowing them the ability to choose the manner._

Tevos immediately began entering her reply, _Well, I suppose our perceptions diverge at motivation. I'm more holistically interested in my people's health. You must take into consideration that everyone is exposed to particularly harmful drugs, children often included, who have not yet developed sophisticated decision-making skills._ She paused, pondering her next string of words. _Though I suppose trying to sway your opinion is futile, as usual. A dispute over ideologies is inevitable between us, unless we abstain from speaking altogether._

She meant it with more levity than contempt, and hoped Aria would pick up on that even through the contextually neutral medium of text. As she patiently awaited Aria's next response, she retrieved her glass of wine from its perch and sipped at it. Sometimes, the interval between messages could stretch on for nearly ten minutes at a time as sheer distance created lag, even if one composed their replies without delay. Communication rooms equipped with powerful, expensive transmitters were more desired for lengthy conversations, and Tevos greatly preferred them. Not only could she see another's body language, but more words could be exchanged in a shorter amount of time. She stared off at a wall, holding her glass aloft beside her neck while tapping her fingertips against its surface, eliciting a series of soft, rhythmic tings.

At last, Aria's next message arrived, _I am not ideological. That's a common misconception. I'm the absence of the ideology, I impose no personal philosophies on anyone. It's a simple concept, really. So, what are you doing?_

Tevos found herself unconsciously smiling until she came upon Aria's final question. What an odd thing to ask—it was sudden, discordant, and almost intrusive in the way that she was arbitrarily requesting non-essential information. On a whim, it seemed. Tevos wasn't obliged to answer, but the question perplexed her, so she humored Aria in hopes to unveil her motivations, _I am, at the moment, holding a small conversation with you. Previously I was reading and in the near future I will be turning in for the night. Why do you ask?_

Yet another waiting period passed over the silence of her bedroom, through which she patiently endured.

_I like to know the status of my correspondents_ , Aria wrote. _It's strategic, of course._

_Or merely being nosy,_ Tevos remarked.

She entered the standard waiting period. It was strange, she began to notice, how each span of empty time entertained itself by sending small waves of apprehension through her body, closely resembling that fuss she felt whenever speaking to Aria over vid comm. However, the feeling was acute now unlike its other continuous, albeit subtler incarnation. She tried not to pay it too much attention, instead distracting herself by gazing down into the richly-hued wine, examining the fractured light quivering along its surface, integrity susceptible to even the tiniest motions of her hand. She eventually consumed what remained before receiving Aria's next response:

_Or being passionate about information._

Tevos let a short, soft laugh pass through her lips upon reading Aria's words, clutching her emptied wine glass in a curled hand with the cool lip grazing her jaw. But as soon as she became conscious of her reaction, she stopped, banishing mirth from her face. She was admittedly a little ashamed for laughing and wished to revoke the action, even if no one was around to witness it. For it was so unsettling that someone like Aria T'Loak could still genuinely amuse her after all these years spent walking on ice, tolerating the far-reaching effects of each other's decisions, sometimes bickering, even threatening to deliberately break treaty on several occasions. Oh, why did she suddenly feel so jovial? It was most certainly the few glasses of wine she had—Tevos set her glass down again on the nightstand, as if distancing herself from associated objects would mitigate the alcohol's effects. Before she could think of anything to say in return, she received another strand of Aria's words.

_By the way,_ Aria wrote, _how do circumstances look for those corporations? If things get any worse, I'm abandoning them completely. I'm not going to let my credits burn with them. And how are you handling the situation involving the turian councilor? The last I heard about that, it wasn't getting any better either._

She replied, _The corporations are preparing for litigation. They've made a few public announcements, but they were of little consequence, it seems. I can't predict the future, but you know my stance on the matter regarding the allocation of your credits—best removed from those horrid companies regardless of whether or not you secure any profit. As for Councilor Estulius and I, I don't wish to speak extensively about it. The situation is delicate. We have been 'plotting' a countermeasure, however, which could potentially solve the ordeal. That is all I can say._

While she waited Tevos vaguely realized that their conversation had lasted much longer than she would have liked, putting her into the hours she normally slept through in preparation for the next day's high demands. She remembered the discussion she had with Councilor Estulius earlier that day. She remembered his compliment to her: _veracious,_ and she grew a bit weary at the recollection. How ironic was it that she was currently speaking to Aria T'Loak, so casually, with a peculiar warm glow rising her core as the night went on. She was not so veracious at all, Tevos somberly accepted. But could it ever be said that their unique relations had actually contributed to the long-lasting peace between their realms? If they hadn't developed a degree of fondness for one another, could one of their many disagreements over the years have led to a severed pact, and perhaps ignited hostilities anew? Could their _horrific_ fascination with one another have not been universally horrific at all when viewed in conjunction with the last, relatively peaceful half-century?

_Wait_ , she thought, _am I defending this? Am I justifying it, rationalizing it? Or am I just defending myself?_

Whatever her unconscious intention was, all forms of attempted justification were unacceptable.

Aria wrote minutes later, following Tevos's session of self-reprimand, _Plotting? I thought you only plotted with me._

Tevos might have expressed amusement again if she hadn't been utterly confounded by the words and still moderately distracted by her other concerns.

Just what was Aria doing? Her tone was amiable and suspiciously deviant from her usual coldness. Was she just in a good mood? That was a reasonable possibility—after all, Aria was on her feet again, freed from the yoke of vulnerability. But when had Aria ever been in a good enough mood to become… _playful?_ Was that the right word, Tevos wondered? She was obviously instigating something, but why? The councilor inwardly frowned when she considered Aria trying to put Tevos in a good mood only to charm and manipulate her, ultimately in preparation to ask of her a condemnable or outrageous favor. But there was only one way to confirm or disprove it, Tevos told herself, and that was taking the bait for the time being and seeing where it led.

_Are you envious?_ Tevos inquired.

_I'm more so disturbed,_ Aria replied at length. _Elite politicians conspiring with other elite politicians? Unheard of._

_Since the functional value of this conversation has long expired,_ Tevos typed with a faint smile, _I'll be getting to sleep now._

If Aria had ulterior motives, she would definitely reveal them now, the councilor thought. While waiting for Aria's response, Tevos rose to transport the device from which she read books to its proper place on a shelf, and made a short trip to her kitchen to wash out her wine glass and return it to its home in a cabinet. When she entered her bedroom again, Tevos switched off the lights in time to be alerted of Aria's incoming message. She accessed it after settling into bed, the glow of her omni-tool's interface scattering around the room and illuminating every shadow and surface it touched.

_Keep me updated on anything notable_ , was all Aria said.

Tevos averted her eyes from the text, exhaling as mild confusion settled over her once more. If not to persuade Tevos to carry out one of her reprehensible propositions, why had Aria addressed her with… friendliness? Perhaps a good mood brought it forth, like Tevos had initially suspected. She could see no other reason for it.

Unless... Aria was communicating _interest_.

No, that was positively _absurd_ , she thought. There was no reason for Aria to even try because the councilor once made it quite clear that she never again wanted anything to do with such behavior. Surely Tevos hadn't inadvertently conveyed interest during their recent talks, had she? Even when Aria gave her those unnerving leers, Tevos made a point to appear unreceptive. But there was always the possibility that Aria had seen through her efforts, discovering that she was indeed affected, and was now proceeding to capitalize on the tiny indication that Tevos was not completely uninterested. But she _was_ uninterested, wasn't she? She didn't see Aria as a limerent object, did she?

She didn't want this. She would _never_ consciously want this, not while she still possessed a single ounce of sanity.

She hoped she was merely reading too deeply into Aria's messages. Being over-analytical or even paranoid was a more welcomed fate than having Aria's _attention_. But as usual, there was absolutely no way to tell what Aria was thinking, no way to stealthily enter her thoughts and determine whether or not Tevos was correct. It made the councilor's tame curiosity burn into the _need_ to know, but it was left unsatisfied from her inability to investigate Aria's private musings. The only remaining approach was a direct one. A verbal confrontation.

But how would one go about asking such a frightful, ineffable thing? How could Tevos possibly present her question in a way that would not only save herself from abject ridicule, but also in a manner which would obligate Aria to answer truthfully? The feat would be nigh impossible.

An orange glow reignited within the dark blue night as she resurrected her message client from her wrist, daring to attempt composing her terrible question to assess whether its creation truly was an unfathomable thing. She made to reply to Aria's last message, but lacked all intentions of following through. But even in this hypothetical scenario, essentially meant as a benign rehearsal, Tevos found herself wordless for the better portion of a minute before her fingers tentatively began to move across the projected keyboard.

_For fifty years I have been haunted by idle speculation,_ she wrote _, and against that steady attrition over time, I've been utterly alone with my thoughts. And you know what I speak of. Curiosity torments me again as of late, filling my head with this—_ she paused, searching for an accurate term— _wonder, always threatening to spill over at the most inopportune moments_. _It wants—no, demands—to be acknowledged and addressed, brought resolution._ _I am bewildered at what happened between us. I am bewildered by its origin and its lingering importance. What was it? Was it an invention of our own self-centered desires, or something similar to that cognitive dissonance one feels when standing at the edge of a precipice and somehow... experiences a peculiar urge to jump? Have I fallen victim to that same phenomenon yet again as I type now, at the edge of the precipice, flirting with the disaster that may arrive if I brought these thoughts to light?_

Tevos stalled with grim hesitation. Her trepidation, channeled by her digits, manifested into minute trembles as she continued, _Oh, how I wish to speak about this, and yet how terribly I do not—But what did it mean, Aria, and what does it mean to either of us now? Have we obliterated it, stripped it of any lasting significance, or does it linger in another form, in dormancy? Were we simply being reckless, out of our minds? The answer to that is invariably yes... I suppose my revised question is this: What threw us out of our minds? And beneath your silence, do you wonder similar things, or have you truly liberated yourself from the past? Do you habitually take lovers and proceed to forget them, and is that what trivialized us even in spite of my profile? And would your answers—if you answered—address the future? Will I indulge in wines like these more often? Will I blearily type out more hypothetical or even legitimate (Goddess forbid) messages like this in a vain attempt to understand why something like this haunts me as much as it does? What a peculiar thing this is, Aria. I think I have drank a bit too much tonight._

She stopped, reading over what she had entered and decided her words were not only too incomprehensible, but also too foolish to ever be read by another pair of eyes. But she struggled to part with them. They were her sincere, sacred thoughts poured directly from her mind into a measurable state of existence, and the unique scarcity of her first attempt convinced her to not delete it. Plus, the composition had salvage value if she ever desired to try directing the legendary question at Aria again. Tiredly, with the soothing pulse of alcohol gently coursing through her veins and rounding the sharp edges of her usual wit, she lifted a finger to store the message in her drafts, but instead of moving it to the intended destination, a single moment carelessly spent under the influence of sheer habit had her mistakenly sending it along.

After a moment of oblivion spent processing what had just happened, Tevos's heart began to pound ruthlessly against her ribs as her eyes widened in horror. She frantically searched the screen in vain for some miraculous way to vitiate the message's journey, unwilling to accept the reality of her devastating error while simultaneously cursing herself for operating under the combined debilitations imposed by the late hour and imbibing.

_No-no-no-no_ , she despaired within her silent tempest of fear. _Oh Goddess, no, please no…_

Nervous hands were lifted to her face, covering her nose and mouth as she stared blankly at her legs, hidden beneath her sheets and crossed over by a slanted, thin column of light seeping through the parted curtains over her window. Her panic was steadily transforming into shock, an instant of nothingness, disbelief, as if such an enormous tide of distress had washed over her that her body had resorted to completely depriving her of the ability to do herself any more harm through self-inflicted mental torture.

_What a disaster,_ she hollowly thought when emerging from her reprieve. _What an absolute disaster I've gotten myself into... I shouldn't have done that at all. I shouldn't have written a single word. Oh, the worst that can go wrong truly does go wrong, doesn't it? Goddess. Not only must I endure the shame of having Aria read it, but I must also anticipate her response! Please don't reply, Aria. Just allow me to pretend this never happened…_

As if in deliberate disobedience of Tevos's pleas, a reply found her a few minutes later, inducing tremendous dread within the councilor's stomach as she read the obscure, almost mocking reaction:

_What vintage of wine? Because I'd like some of that._

Mortified, Tevos reclined against her pillows as both hands slowly rose to mask her entire face.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Zuria traveled up the steps and into Aria's lounge after the guards let her through. She found her boss comfortably seated on her sofa with the radiant glow of her omni-tool washing over her features. When she approached, her superior afforded her a fleeting glance before inputting a string of text, but did not say anything until Zuria came to stand directly in front of her, securing her attention by speaking first.

"I need to talk to you."

Aria lifted her cold eyes from whatever she was currently preoccupied with and met Zuria's gaze, casting her an expectant look. She returned her attention to her omni-tool. "Well you're going to have to wait," she vapidly informed her, but when she continued after that, her tone was more so sarcastic. "I'm talking to my good friend the asari councilor."

The lieutenant managed a smirk. "Friend, huh? I didn't think it was like that. Whenever you mention the Council it's always about how much their most recent mandate pissed you off."

Her boss spared her another look, this time imbued with a ghost of amusement, but it was so faint that Zuria wasn't completely sure if it was there at all. When Aria averted her gaze once again to reply to a message, she concurrently spoke, "How urgent is your topic of discussion?"

"Moderately."

Aria paused to examine Zuria for confirmation. "Have a seat while you wait," she said to her, motioning to an open spot.

Zuria did so, sitting down on an adjacent section of the sofa and watched Aria as she navigated through her omni-tool's interface, opening windows, closing windows, rearranging them, reading over sections of text, and replying to correspondents in her instinctively efficient, almost mechanical work process. She remained patiently silent.

"I'm thinking of splitting off Afterlife from the auxiliary floors below," Aria said impassively, never looking away from her screens, "to make this area more… exclusive. Less diluted. I'll call the other floors something else. They're still mine, just not Afterlife anymore and catering to a more general crowd. What do you think?"

Zuria canted her head, a little surprised that Aria was asking her opinion on a business-oriented issue, but then again, it wasn't so outlandish. The issue was quite trivial in comparison to other transpiring operations. "Is there… another reason besides making Afterlife more exclusive?"

The corner of Aria's mouth visibly twitched, but whether it was the stunted root of a smile or a frown was indiscernible. "Yes, in fact," she slowly began while typing in something. "Did you know that the utilities—including the ventilation system in Afterlife—are connected to the lower floors? I'm also severing that."

Zuria nodded, recognizing Aria's desire to reform her fortress after the latest incident. She continued patiently observing her boss for a few more minutes. At one point Aria grew a small smirk while typing, and although it was still one of her usual cunning and cruel grins, the reaction coaxed a perplexed crease to appear in Zuria's brow. She quietly wondered what amused Aria so. Certainly not the asari councilor; that woman was everything Aria traditionally hated, and even if they had agreed to keep peace between the Citadel and Omega, Zuria doubted their relationship was anything beyond a forced one. Aria's pleasure was more likely to have originated in receiving good news from one of her investigation teams deployed earlier that day.

After the smile faded from Aria's lips, she suddenly rose from her seat and motioned for Zuria to follow. She obeyed, trailing behind Aria as she led her out of the lounge, down the steps, and through a guarded door where they emerged into a quieter passage illuminated in hazy red. From there, the two entered one of Aria's private rooms, where as Zuria understood, extremely confidential discussions were often held. Whether that was the only purpose of the rooms she had never been completely sure, nor did she ever plan on asking.

The furnishings erected around the small but luxurious area primarily comprised low sofas overflowing with cushions embroidered with opulent designs sewn in bold, royal reds, blacks, and golds. Their luscious fabric retained the faint scent of cigarettes, Zuria noticed as they settled down onto the comfortable arrangement. There were a few cabinets set against one wall, made from a dark wood and containing a variety of bottles, visible past glass panes set in the doors. Zuria vaguely recalled being in the same room once years ago, but back then, it was a stark meeting area complete with a long table and chairs, often used when Aria needed to collectively and personally address her administration. Evidently, Aria had long abandoned obsolete pragmatism for miniature palaces of exquisite self-indulgence. But the room hadn't lost its functionality, of course—the entertaining area had just become more hospitable for her lovely administration and favored company who would, without question, consume the offered molecules of Aria's fabulous wealth like the acceptance of a clever subliminal bribe.

While Zuria adapted to the new surroundings, surveying the environment with great interest, Aria had opened her omni-tool's mail client again and was presumably reading a new message. As per usual, Zuria watched her without uttering a word, and this time, her close scrutiny rewarded her with a striking novelty: Aria's expression, first relaxed in its default state—a perpetual aspect of mild displeasure—was gradually overcome by something strange. Zuria's first conclusion was that Aria was surprised, but she was doubtful of her own judgment. Why would Aria be surprised by anything? The more she observed her superior, however, the more her doubt faded into legitimate plausibility. Aria _was_ surprised. Not shocked or shaken, but suddenly displaying piqued interest, as if some element in the conversation she was holding had temporarily confounded her enough to force her into a pause. After staring at the screen for a long while, Aria finally entered a brief reply, closed the mail client, and although she still remained outwardly distant and distracted, a hint of gratification rose to life in her eyes. Apparently conscious of Zuria's monitoring, Aria dismissed all traces from her face and turned to her, now ready to initiate their private discussion.

"What did you need to talk about?" asked Aria, reclining back against the sofa and its lavish cushions.

Zuria hesitated, gathering her courage. She wondered if Aria already knew what she meant to talk to her about, and whether she had taken the precaution of relocating them to a more appropriate spot because of her presumption. Well, if Aria _had_ correctly anticipated the subject matter, Zuria reasoned, that meant she was not completely opposed to hearing about it, and was generously giving her right-hand lieutenant a chance.

"I wanted to talk about Liselle," Zuria bravely began, carefully watching Aria's eyes for hostile glints. No matter Aria's mood or openness toward hearing Zuria out, treading lightly was still very necessary.

"What about her?" Aria inquired, sounding unnervingly impartial, her posture just as self-assured, lofty, and aristocratic as it had been throughout all the time Zuria had known her. But no, not quite the _same_. It had evolved over time, refined from its not-so-humble confident, boastful origins and into something less obvious. Something well-established and now made ubiquitous, as if Aria had realized she no longer needed to gloriously vaunt her power, for it was ever-present now, always emanating from her image; intangible, but creating a similar effect within the hearts of her loyal onlookers as would occur if she physically forced them to kneel.

Zuria drew in a breath before answering, "I really think you should reconsider having her on these missions. I don't think she's ready, and that's coming from my perspective as her biotic mentor and supplementary guardian. I was in the apartment when Liselle returned—awfully frustrated and dejected at her assignments being delayed—and she spent the evening with us all. Sulking, mostly. I spoke to Iaera after Liselle went to bed early. She's a wreck over this, Aria. Iaera's so worried about Liselle, and she can't say or do anything about it. Neither can any of the commandos. But all of us, without a single variance in opinion, agree that Liselle just isn't ready for any of this. I mean… out of us in the apartment, Iaera has spent the most time with her, and she's absolutely convinced that something will go wrong."

Aria had lifted a hand while Zuria spoke, absently running her fingertips against a cushion's seam as she stared at the other asari with growing disdain. "I don't care about what Iaera thinks is best for Liselle," she coldly said, averting her gaze to study the fine threads beneath her fingers. "She isn't her mother."

Zuria felt her temper starting to boil, but kept herself in check. "She's her mother nearly as much as you are. We're all her family, Aria."

The next look Aria gave her sent chills of apprehension down Zuria's spine. The lieutenant was admittedly a little scared, as was the appropriate reaction to Aria T'Loak's glowering. She desperately tried to prevent her inner turmoil from noticeably surfacing in her body, but Aria had probably already detected it. Aria knew—Aria always knew.

"Listen, Aria," Zuria said, "Liselle's going to get herself hurt out there. It's only a matter of time. Do you really want to let her get mixed up in all this? Do you really want to take this risk?"

Aria's glower had developed into pure indignation. It was venomous, amplified by the malevolent, steady rising and falling of her shoulders with every breath, as if they could hardly contain the anger simmering within. "Liselle is _my_ daughter," Aria began, speaking lowly and clearly. "And you have no place in telling me how to treat her. The people of Omega are free. _I_ keep them free from oppressive laws and idiotic bureaucracy. Do you really think I would turn my back on all that and imprison _my own daughter_ within the things I've always stood against? She is _my flesh and blood_ , and she will not be denied her basic rights to control her own life."

They exchanged a lengthy, tense stare during which Zuria overcame the worst of her fears discouraging her from retaliating against the injustice found in Aria's words, and more importantly, from continuing to issue arguments in defense of Liselle's safety. "It's always about you, isn't it?" she said, refusing to shrink beneath the wild ire swiftly mounting in Aria's face. "You think you're doing her a service, but you're not. You're only saving yourself from hypocrisy, shielding _yourself_ from Liselle's resentment by not bothering to shield _her_."

The very moment Zuria's final statement left her mouth, Aria lunged forward, carried on the storms of her anger, and slammed the lieutenant to the wall behind her with a seamless marriage of biotic power and physical strength while a hand grasped her neck in a painful vise. She was squeezing, nails viciously biting into her skin. And Zuria, initially stunned by the attack, struggled in vain against her captor as she found it increasingly difficult to breathe with every second spent within the brutal grip. The sensation of dizzying pressure in her skull rapidly built while blood desperately fought to pump past the dam of Aria's hand.

"You think I don't care about Liselle!?" Aria demanded of her, abruptly pressing her hand harshly into the lieutenant's throat, eliciting a pathetic, strained vocalization. "You think I don't feel anything at the thought of her being wounded or killed? You think I don't love her? Do you think I'm not putting in any effort at all to keep her safe? Do you think it doesn't _fucking infuriate me_ that soon a point will arrive when I can't effectively watch over her anymore!?"

While Aria snarled at her, Zuria remained wide-eyed and attentive despite her steadily-growing terror. Even with all her experience as a veteran commando, she knew she would not be able to defend herself from Aria if the latter wanted her dead. If Aria intended to kill her, it would be done, but as her boss spoke to her, punished her, _corrected_ her misconduct, Zuria was reassured that Aria only wished to frighten her into submission and obedience, to remind her of inferior rank and of Aria's unequivocal authority. Zuria was in no real danger, but dark tendrils of fear still vindictively clutched at her heart.

"And you!" Aria continued, mere centimeters from her face. " _Questioning_ me, putting me on trial after _assuming_ you understand who I am and what I think! It only proves that after centuries, you still don't know anything about me." With a final, savage crush of her throat to emphasize her point, Aria released Zuria, who slid back down to the sofa and gasped for air.

Neither said anything more for a long while. Aria glared down at the lieutenant, showing neither pity nor remorse. After Zuria had recovered enough to drag herself back into an upright sitting position she contritely looked at Aria, seeking forgiveness for her infringement.

Aria evidently cared about Liselle a great deal. She loved her daughter, but she had also recognized that she could no longer prevent Liselle from doing as she wished. Truly, they were all teetering on the division between protecting Liselle and detaining her, and everyone involved was fighting over which side to stand on, resulting in fractures, arguments, and now… a confrontation. And Aria, after vividly illustrating her position, was no less disturbed by the situation than Zuria was. But the decision she had made was from the opposite side of the hazardous divide, and would not be challenged. She wouldn't permit dissent, not even from close allies with the best of intentions.

_Keep Aria's little girl safe._ Years spent repeating that ultimate priority in her head, over and over, had actually influenced Zuria to lash out against the girl's mother herself—an almost suicidal response. Her instincts, now put into perspective, astonished her.

_Goddess,_ she thought, _the lengths to which I've gone to protect that girl… They're parental._

While Zuria gradually recovered, Aria had stepped away and was now opening a new bottle taken from the cabinets, her back facing the lieutenant and her rage no longer ablaze as if effortlessly shut off with a turn of a valve. When Aria returned, settling back down onto the cushions, she extended one hand to offer Zuria a stout glass filled with drink. She stared at the libation in disbelief.

Her eyes were so cold, intrusively staring into her own. They radiated no warmth, only its absence.

What was this beguiling character before her now? She must have spent far too much time absent from Aria's company, for her current personage had mutated over the ages into an unrecognizable form, so very distant from what it was years ago. Back then, when Aria was debuting, rallying forces all over Omega and overthrowing Patriarch's regime, she had been exorbitant, theatric, yet terribly earnest and direct. Aria was known for streamlining and compressing everything she did into concise, legible, and clear purposes. But years in power had distorted her, transformed Aria into an indecipherable, many-faceted puzzle.

As Aria carefully, almost gently slipped the glass into Zuria's hesitant fingers, the lieutenant watched in a daze as her own digits closed around it. Aria was soothing the wounds she had just inflicted, asserting her control, an affectionate dominance.

Zuria felt incredibly weary. Amazed and impressed with Aria and her evolution, but immensely unnerved all the same. Slowly, she brought the glass to her lips while Aria abandoned their former subject matter and began speaking about the leads an investigation team currently tasked with tracking down Anikot had made, pointing out his potential usefulness if interrogated, and her ambitions to violently annex the strife-riddled Tuhi District by the end of the next few weeks.

She felt the alcohol gliding down her throat in a warm caress, but the wounds on its outside—tiny bleeding marks along her neck where Aria's fingernails had shallowly pierced the skin—still bitterly stung.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Everyone in the apartment was surprised when the girl came through the front door and into the sitting room, carrying acute discontent on her face and the many scents of Omega's streets on her clothes, all cradled within the dominating traces of smoke. She didn't say a single word at first, causing all present residents to reflexively inquire whether she was all right, and if something bad had happened.

She moodily shook her head, still obviously frustrated, and briefly explained that her team's mission had been delayed for an indeterminate amount of time. It was, above all dejection and disappointment, _embarrassing_. Liselle would have rather come home injured and in pain than returning in this fashion. She would have bore wounds proudly like medals for bravery and service, but today her chance to enter the underworld and all its danger had been stolen from her, instead sending her home with shamefully unmarred flesh.

Nevertheless, she didn't scorn the people delighted to see her unharmed. In spite of her ill mood, she hugged Iaera and Zuria and returned the cheerful greetings of the commandos, who were preparing to leave for another assignment Aria was sending them on. For the remainder of the evening, Liselle sat with the two matrons after eating, and they discussed current events. She didn't speak much—opting to listen to Zuria's accounts involving much work and arrangements being completed with Aria and the rest of her administration, which at the moment contained only two other people.

"It's actually reminiscent of the old days," Zuria had remarked. "Back when Aria's administration was almost completely made of asari. There's just Renaga, Dissia, and myself right now. Aria says she's got her eye on a potential fourth member—another old friend, it seems—and might try recruiting her soon. I'm not allowed to give out the name yet, unfortunately."

Liselle went to bed early that night, but spent most of the first hour staring up at the ceiling, thinking about her squadmates and her mother.

After a night of restless sleep, Liselle awoke to a message on her omni-tool. She groggily sat upright, wiping her face with one hand to help shed the sleepiness away and identified the message as orders from Aria. She immediately opened it and read:

.

TO: LISELLE KASANTIS  
FROM: ARIA T'LOAK  
SUBJECT: Orders

I have an assignment for your team. I want you all to head over to Afterlife and have a chat with the Patriarch. He hears a lot of rumors from contacts and sells 'business advice' to a certain clientele. I want to know if he's heard anything even remotely associated with recent incidents, or if he's hiding something he knows he shouldn't. You don't have to conceal your allegiance, I actually want him to know you've been sent by me. Rasma will know what to ask him. You and Malak stay at her side with your guns out. Make a good impression.

.

Her immediate reaction was thus: _Why do you want us to go talk to someone who's likely thirty seconds away from you?_

While Liselle tried to make sense of the orders, she dutifully sent them along to her other teammates and began hastily preparing to leave. At first, when she was pulling her arms through the sleeves of her commando attire, she suspected that Aria was giving them a basic low-risk assignment only to further keep Liselle out of trouble. She felt nothing but anger at the possibility and prayed that a discussion with the Patriarch was actually something Aria truly needed done, and wasn't just 'busy work' for them to give the illusion of legitimate activity, which would in theory keep their mouths shut.

Soon she received confirmation from both her teammates and all agreed to meet in front of Afterlife before going in. After she was dressed and ready, Liselle emerged from her bedroom to inform Iaera that she was leaving, to which the matron responded with a reluctant nod and a sincere wish of good luck. Zuria and the commandos were already gone—the commandos at their new post, and Zuria was likely convening with Aria—so Iaera was left in the apartment alone. Liselle felt a little guilty for leaving her so, but she had no choice. She was on orders like everyone else.

During her cab ride, Liselle recalled that she had never personally been to Afterlife before, although she'd seen numerous pictures and vids of the interior. When she was younger she was occasionally made uncomfortable by it all, especially when remembering that her mother was always somewhere nearby keeping an eye on the patrons and managing local entertainment events, which were sometimes questionable and even horrifying to the uncalloused spectator. Once while searching the extranet, Liselle had stumbled upon a vid recording of an organized fighting pit where mercenaries fought for a huge prize of credits awarded to the last one standing.

Liselle's cab arrived across the street from Afterlife, ejecting her into the midst of another river of bustling people traveling by, many coming from the fantastic nightclub, heading toward it, or simply lingering and socializing in the area to project an aura of importance. The huge holographic sign towered overhead, flickering the name of the club and abstracted visuals of dancers and other enticing sights. After gathering her bearings and scanning the many faces, Liselle located her two teammates and approached where they stood loitering along a guard rail dividing the street from the dreary emptiness between many spires beyond and below. When she joined the two unhappy operatives, the trio wordlessly started toward the club's entrance.

While dodging around traffic again like the previous day, Rasma asked aloud to Liselle, "This is all she sent you? No more specifics other than what you passed on to us?"

"That was it," she replied.

"Isn't it a little odd that Aria wants other people to talk to the Patriarch when she's usually sitting just a few meters away?" Malak inquired to both of them, once again exhibiting his tendency to question orders regardless of who they came from. "If she wants the Patriarch to talk, I would think she'd rather do it herself. Even with us three combined, we're not going to be able to intimidate the guy like Aria can."

"Maybe Aria's too busy," said Rasma.

They had to stop to inform the bouncer of their business, who spent a moment checking their IDs before letting them through. Behind them, complaints arose from the line leading up to the nightclub, which the three of them had completely bypassed. The front door opened, letting deep red light spill over their bodies as they began traveling through a hall lined with sofas and holographic fires blazing across the walls. The faint, muffled thuds of the music playing throughout the main floors bled into the area.

Liselle, though already entranced by the room, also donated a generous portion of her thoughts to the question on all of their minds: Why send them to talk to the Patriarch when Aria could've done it herself? The old krogan, as Liselle understood, was completely obsequious to Aria's authority and had accepted his current state of deprived power—a broken man in every respect, a shadow of his former glory, utterly removed from a time when he might have posed a serious threat to his enemies. Or maybe he wasn't as broken as they thought. Perhaps he still harbored resentment and bitterness. But even then, Aria herself was still far more suited for extracting information out of him.

By the time they reached the middle of the hall, a final plausible scenario found Liselle.

"Maybe Aria doesn't want to directly speak to the Patriarch because it'll make her look bad," she suggested, catching the attention of the two walking beside her. "If she personally goes to him, wouldn't that make her appear desperate for information?"

Malak shook his head. "Wouldn't matter. The Patriarch knows his place and no matter how Aria comes off, he'll still be beneath her."

"Or it'll go to his head," said Liselle. "He might just withhold something to see where it leads. You can't honestly believe that the Patriarch wouldn't take an opportunity to win back some of his former power if the chance was given to him. What's he have to lose at this point?"

At Liselle's left, Rasma actually smiled. "This kid's got a good head, Malak," she said to the batarian, who frowned. "You might have been wrong in judging her so quickly. Like I said, I think Aria knows exactly what she's doing."

Pride swelled within the maiden as they emerged onto the main floor and were suddenly engulfed by the music's pounding electric hooks and heavily resounding thuds. There were lights all around. Light and bursting life, burning like the theme of fire enclosing them on all sides. People were moving around, talking in close proximity to one another to defeat the blaring sounds, some dancing, others drinking at the bars. And above their heads was the luminous holographic tower encompassed by a circular platform, upon which dancers strut. What light from the brilliant tower impeded by their bodies left them in shadow, like a diorama of dark, elegant silhouettes—exemplary representations of the fabled asari sensuality, liberated from their personal identities and free to smugly flaunt their possession of the galaxy's current idealized beauty.

Liselle felt her face growing warm in slight abashment. They were so very glamorous with their lithe movements. The dancers must have had a fantastic job here. Being employed to dance in this famous location inevitably meant having Aria's favor, and Aria's favor meant they were paid well and enjoyed generous benefits and privileges. As the trio walked in a curve around the centerpiece, Liselle's line of sight still periodically vacillated between her path and the dancers.

She caught sight of the lounge at the back of the nightclub. There was no way to see into it, but Liselle knew enough about Afterlife to recognize the location where her mother was most often found. Was she there right now? Could she have been watching them at that very instant?

"Hey, hurry it up!" Malak barked to Liselle when her paces slowed.

She made haste to catch up before they all meandered toward the door of a private room branching off from the main area. Before they entered, however, Rasma stopped them.

"Guns out, like the orders said," she told them. "Don't point them at anyone, though. Just keep them in hand."

They did as she said. Malak retrieved an assault rifle from his back, and Liselle pulled her submachine gun from its holster. Unfortunately, her new firearm drew undesired attention from her batarian ally.

"Where the hell did you get that?" he asked.

Before she could answer, Rasma exasperatedly intervened.

"That doesn't matter," she quickly said. "Let's just get in there and get what we can from the Patriarch. I don't want either of you speaking too much, understand? Malak speaks like an angry child and Liselle probably _is_ a child. The Patriarch isn't going to take you seriously if you open your mouths."

While her comment rendered Malak indignant, Liselle was momentarily stunned with a blend of fear and panic. Was her youth that obvious? Had she really failed so dismally in presenting herself as at least over a century in age that Rasma had just disregarded her dossier's information completely, dismissing it as blatantly fraudulent? If so, why hadn't she reacted more drastically? Liselle recognized that none of them had exactly made a good first impression on each other during their first meeting the previous day, so why would Rasma remain willing to accept her without an interrogation? Because Aria said to? That might have been the reason. Or perhaps it was because her career in intelligence had exposed Rasma to the statistics of how many people on Omega were currently living under pseudonyms and other false information, and had seen Liselle's case as just being another of many similar instances.

When no one uttered any further interruptions or objections, Rasma led them through the door as it opened upon their approach. They filed into the small room behind her, bathed in dim light once more, and were immediately skewered by the wary gazes of a handful of people seated around the area. Their presence was unexpected and somewhat concerning—three people dressed in mercenary armor with drawn guns was hardly a good sign, and the sight of them actually influenced some people to nervously shift toward the door as they passed by in case the situation was destined for escalation. Among the occupants of the room was their target: a looming krogan with a face subtly creased with age and scarred by battle, and a crest of uncertain hues, green shades at the base, soon fading into subdued reds and browns. He turned to regard them, cutting his conversation with a few patrons short to address the disturbance.

Without saying anything to the man, the three came to a halt before him, arranged in a small triangle with Rasma at its peak, facing the krogan. Throughout the uncomfortable silence, Liselle stared at the Patriarch in mild awe.

So this was once her mother's boss. The former de facto ruler of Omega, at one time the single most formidable warlord in the Terminus Systems. The commander of armies and fleets, unrivaled in firepower for light-years upon light-years in every direction. He was the man who Aria overthrew by carefully infiltrating every level of his syndicate and turning them all against him at once, leaving him the scattered loyalists with whom he desperately waged a losing war against Aria until she finally defeated him in single combat.

_And crushed one of his hearts,_ Liselle added. Aria had never mentioned that part of the story herself, but every version of the tale Liselle ever heard contained that detail. From there, it varied. Some said the organ ruptured and exploded from the force of a tremendous impact caused by Aria's biotics. Others said she delivered a punch so powerful that it tore a hole through his chest and obliterated it.

Regardless of what truly happened, Liselle found it incredibly surreal to be in the company of someone so ancient and symbolic of her mother's prowess and domination. How did the Patriarch handle that? How did he live as nothing but a trophy, a warning, an example to all those who dared to challenge Aria? Did he not prefer death over this long-lasting humiliation? From what Liselle had read about krogan culture, one of the worst insults to krogan was being told that he or she was not worth killing. Although Aria had preserved Patriarch because he was still useful to her, he must have felt _some_ of that infamous insult in being spared after their fight.

It must have been more complicated than that, she considered. Not every krogan was necessarily the same, and she was not alive when the legendary takeover happened to experience the staggering power-shift for herself.

"Yeah?" he gruffly asked them when the silence persisted. "What do you want?"

"We have questions on Aria's behalf," Rasma said, unflinching beneath his glare.

The Patriarch scoffed. "Ah, 'on Aria's behalf'," he repeated with derision. "So now she's sending little circuses my way? Interesting... Does she mean to mercifully entertain me in this monotonous life of mine?"

"Get serious."

He smirked. "You're pretty bold to channel Aria's authority like that. But I suppose having the support of your _terrifying_ bodyguards there might make you overconfident."

Rasma, showing no traces of amusement, continued, "We have questions about the issues of disloyalty in Aria's organization and of enemy shadow factions."

After processing her statement of business, the Patriarch grinned. "Yes, I suppose that issue has caught her attention, hasn't it? Everyone's heard about what's been happening around here, and no one can predict what'll become of it... So they've got Aria worried, do they? She's finally getting a taste of the inevitable fall, it seems. So much of a taste that she's resorting to asking me for help?"

"She doesn't need your help. But she also _doesn't need_ to find out that you've been holding out on her."

Liselle stole a glance at Rasma, feeling a little impressed by her handling of the situation. She silently took note, recognizing her strategy as being accusatory rather than inquiring. With that approach, they were no longer beseeching the Patriarch for information, but demanding he exonerate himself by complying.

He let out short, hearty laugh. "So you want to know what the old Patriarch's been hearing? Very well. Have a seat. And put those guns away before you shoot yourselves in the feet. Especially the asari—didn't your mother tell you to never aim a gun at anything you don't intend to shoot?"


	8. A Queen Aflame

The two politicians strode down one of the spacious, immaculate corridors of the Embassies, heading for an elevator that would bring them to the Citadel Tower for the petitions. Tevos of course had an active role in those; and Irissa, on the other hand, concurrently had other business with some fellow ambassadors presently convening in the lower Council Chambers.

Clean white light discouraged unsavory conversations, but Tevos defied the atmosphere—keeping the volume of her voice at a minimum as she discussed sensitive events with the trustworthy Irissa, while carefully balancing audibility over the sound of their heels faintly clicking against the floor.

"I haven't heard from Spectre Neora in a few days," Tevos grimly reported as she closed a window projected from her omni-tool. "She hasn't been sending in reports. I'm growing very concerned. The last time Neora checked in, she was on Omega doing reconnaissance. I've tasked Spectre Lerath with locating her, but so far he hasn't been able to establish contact."

Irissa spent a few seconds processing the situation before producing her conjecture. "What if she's undercover? Lerath might interfere."

"I made sure to advise caution."

She gave a single nod. "Or do you think our friend running the show on Omega could have caught Neora?" Irissa wryly proposed. "I wouldn't imagine that she'd afford Citadel spies a warm reception."

Tevos canted her head in displeasure at the notion. "It's a possibility," she admitted. Tiny white atoms of light from above were reflected in the surfaces of her incisive eyes. They belied her much darker cognitions. "But I don't think Aria would eliminate any of my agents without first confronting me about them. You see, she could obtain far more from holding a Spectre captive and demanding ransom than she would from merely killing them. I don't believe Aria has a hand in this, no..." She trailed off a moment, recalling even more negativity than what she had already burdened Irissa with. "And speaking of Aria, I received some chilling news from Asari High Command this morning. Did you receive anything from them? You also had clearance to know this, being their favored potential successor for me if I should be removed from office for any reason. They want you peripherally involved because it may tremendously affect future foreign policy—a disparity you may inherit."

Irissa shook her head to deny it, but her eyes were alight with genuine interest. Their paces eased to a halt, and Tevos glanced about to make sure they were alone in the corridor, save for a few C-Sec officers stationed further down. She lowered her voice even more so to elude their senses.

"High Command informed me about a few of their sleeper agents on Omega," she said. "Apparently some of them have been there for _years_. They've been monitoring the situation there—the skirmishes, the power shifts, and the damages to Aria T'Loak's syndicate. If Aria is overthrown, they plan to infiltrate the remains of her intelligence networks and the higher ranks of her mercenary legions. Essentially, they will be salvaging Aria's crumbling resources to reorganize and resuscitate her regime before her enemy can fill the power vacuum. Asari High Command does not want to lose Omega to an entity potentially hostile toward Council space."

The wideness of Irissa's eyes communicated her surprise. "They're _really_ preparing for this?" she breathed in awe.

"Yes, I'm afraid," confirmed Tevos, quite dismally. She turned away from Irissa and kept her gaze unwaveringly forward, even as her companied vied for contact. "You should receive their formal letter soon."

"You haven't told Aria T'Loak anything, have you?"

She slowly exhaled. "No. They have asked me to maintain my silence."

"And will you?" Irissa asked Tevos, sensing her poignancy.

Tevos, still reluctant to divert her gaze from her path to meet her friend's, did not immediately reply. Of course she _wanted_ to tell Aria, but did she want to because of diplomatic reasons? Or was it because she had somewhat _befriended_ her and was acting as a friend might? It was a curious question to which she did not possess a clear answer.

The embarrassing incident the previous night not only proved to Tevos herself that she harbored a significant degree of interest in Aria, whatever the nature of their relationship might have horrendously mutated into by this point, but Aria had also been informed of it as well. But how seriously had Aria taken her proclamation? Had wine's addling vapor tainted Tevos's words, stripping credence from every character, or had it only amplified the truth in them?

No matter Aria's interpretation, Tevos silently despaired over making a fool of herself. Oh, how Aria must have laughed at her! And what had Tevos even hoped to accomplish with that message?

Her thoughts became an entangled mass of personal complications and political actions. The two were incompatible, and wove into quite the monstrous dilemma. She could not afford to let the two sides of her relationship with Aria mix, especially in such a delicate situation lest she bring upon them both terrible consequences as a product of bad judgement or lack of foresight. And even if she were free from risks, Tevos simply did not possess the time nor was she willing to devote the effort required to resolve _whatever it was_ that might have been transpiring between them.

Recognizing her abuse of a pause, Tevos finally said to Irissa, "I haven't decided. If I wish to reveal their plans to Aria I can do so at my own discretion. Given the fact that they only mean to act in the event of Aria's possible death, they are not threatening her syndicate as it stands, so one would assume that Aria need not know at all. One would _assume_ , I iterate, because at the moment I'm not certain if they're being completely transparent with me."

"You think they actually mean to help bring Aria down?" Irissa inquired, easily picking up on her subtle insinuation.

Councilor Tevos appeared mildly disturbed, as if Irissa's translation of the otherwise delicate wording caused her acute distress when heard in its concentrated form. "It is a possibility I cannot afford to ignore," she hollowly admitted.

"Well I don't think you should tell Aria T'Loak a single word either way," Irissa generously gave her honest opinion. "I think it's good that Asari High Command told you not to say anything."

"Good?" Tevos repeated in confusion as they began to walk again.

"Well, yes," Irissa replied. "It was appropriately tactful of them. Everyone knows you hate Aria a little less than the rest of us. You've been admirably tolerant of her throughout all these years, Tevos. But it sounds like you may not have to be anymore. Good for you, I'd say." She afforded her a smile.

"What makes you think a replacement would be any more agreeable?"

"Well they'd be specially groomed by Asari High Command, of course. They'd be an excellent correspondent. Just think—for the first time in all the ages of the universe, a tamed Omega!"

"Hardly," Tevos dubiously received the notion.

"Why so pessimistic about that?"

"The denizens of Omega would simply overthrow them," she explained as they passed by an arrangement of healthy green ferns growing in a tall planter built into the wall, leaves reaching up from the soil and placidly hanging over the side of the white structure. "Diplomacy has no function there. Leaders are only as strong as their wits, strength, and respect. How could a powerful warlord command their respect if they always complied with the Council? There would be outrage. A puppet or figurehead would be immediately removed, Irissa. You see... if Asari High Command is contributing to Aria's problems, they are only exacerbating the situation. I know there have been several minor disagreements between Aria and ourselves over the decades, but it will only worsen under different leadership. Any leader Asari High Command tries to furtively insert in Aria's place will not last long, I can guarantee you that."

Irissa twisted her mouth in distaste. "You really think Aria T'Loak is the best we're going to get?"

"Yes, I do believe that."

"But why? She's _awful_. What makes her so unusually preferred?"

When they reached the elevator, the waiting doors smoothly rolled open for them and let the two file in. "Aria is a known quantity who has shown willingness to listen to reason in times of conflict," Tevos said, choosing the floor containing their destinations from a small glowing panel projected beside the doors. The light was less harsh in the elevator; a creamy, sedated white with the faintest hue of lavender. "Do you really feel comfortable gambling that?" she continued, looking at Irissa again while the elevator steadily began to rise.

Irissa was standing with her arms folded, open to Tevos's reasoning but not appearing as if she predicted to obtain any joy from hearing it.

"A figurehead from Asari High Command, no matter how apparently mighty, would quickly be disposed of," said the councilor. "If one wishes to rule that station, one must be ruthless and ambitious. An individual who is visibly cooperative with the Citadel would not fit that profile—any semblance of obedience to Council space would only broadcast weakness to their entire regime and consequentially make its people wonder if they may be destined for diplomatic obligations, or worse, subjection to Citadel law. It shall not happen, not because we do not will it, but because it is... inconceivable. If we want any positive relationship at all with Omega, even if it's to only be on the terms of a peace treaty, it would best be maintained with Aria T'Loak in power. Her relationship with the Citadel is of a business nature, and since she periodically attempts to make it exploitative—and please do believe me when I say that, for I have stopped counting the times I've declined her bribery offers—she has not lost the trust of her people. Rather than holding the appearance of a weak ruler accommodating foreign rivals, Aria has established herself as an attacker; as if she were encroaching upon the _Citadel_ instead of the other way around. In conclusion, making circumstances more perilous for Aria T'Loak not only severely hurts her, but us as well."

"All right, I reluctantly adhere to your sound logic," Irissa admitted. " _Reluctantly_ because it's Aria T'Loak, but not even I am so begrudging as to call for her demise based on dislike alone. She's relatively valuable and we need to keep her." Irissa paused to give a short, shallow sigh. A sound of concession. "Right. So, with that in mind, we can't have Asari High Command agitating the situation. Have you contacted them and explained your prediction? But more importantly, if you haven't... will they listen?"

"I haven't said a word to them yet," Tevos replied. "And yes, your concern is definitely shared by myself. What if they're acting clandestinely? What if their activities are deliberately being hidden from me because they _know_ I will pass information onto Aria, based on my avid involvement in creating our treaty? I have sworn no oath of silence—and in countermeasure, they could merely limit my access to their operations... I hate being blind, Irissa." She averted her gaze, turning it toward the door and staring at its cloudy surface. "I want to know what they're doing. I suppose inquiring won't hurt, though. If I don't say anything at all, I won't have the slightest chance at enlightenment. At the very least, bringing this issue to them provides me the chance of readmission to their most secretive movements. But what if they still deny me? Will it ever be safe to assume that they aren't meddling? I don't know if I can ever escape this paranoia..."

"If they are 'meddling'... then Aria needs to know," Irissa said. The elevator arrived at the highest floor at last, opening its doors again to release the pair into the sunset-hued Council Chambers. After stepping out into the open hall lined with radiant, pink-leafed trees whose Thessian longevity made them a nearly permanent decorative arrangement, they stopped once more to continue speaking.

"She probably does needs an update," Tevos agreed, "but I don't know if I can tell her myself. Asari High Command might listen in to my correspondences. Although I'm not legally obligated to stay quiet, warning Aria about anything, in spirit, can be interpreted as traitorous. "

"Eavesdropping like that is illegal," Irissa firmly reminded her. "And I doubt they would expose you for any quasi-treasonous conduct, because it would simultaneously incriminate themselves for their method of gathering such evidence. So what would they do instead? Will they turn against you in other matters? But they aren't our enemies... We aren't supposed to be enemies, Tevos. Goddess, they're supposed to _like_ you. They like you a lot. I've been convinced of it!"

"Do they, Irissa?" she asked her. "Or is it like how you once illustrated, that I am worth more to them as a member of a wealthy bloodline who they can influence through me; that I was younger than other candidates, therefore easier to control? You might have been more correct than what I was initially willing to admit. We cannot know any of these things for certain."

Irissa gave her a strange, perplexed look. "I never thought you'd become this horribly paranoid of everything Tevos. I understand some things would bother you, certainly, but to this extent? Are you really so doubtful of their opinion of you? I, for one, still have copious faith in the idea that they're still rather fond of you and agree with your policy."

"I mean no harm by this Irissa, but... when you learn of the things I have—the existence of certain entities, objects, _designs_ —you truly begin to doubt many understandings your suspicion would never have otherwise touched." Tevos paused, developing a fleeting albeit significantly troubled quality in her features. She resumed, very, _very_ quietly, "I suppose what I mean to say, Irissa, is that the old conception of asari hardly ever warring is somewhat false. We just don't fight wars with firearms and ships as other species are accustomed to. We fight with information and strategic eliminations, and such is our politics. So you see why I obsessively cast my gaze over my shoulder. Being a councilor has done nothing to remedy that. These past fifty years have done to me what six hundred previous ones could not. What shocks you now, those things I am sometimes authorized to reveal to you, are only an auspice of what is to come if you should ever become councilor. There are things in this galaxy that I profoundly wish I never came to know of. It is... It is probably why asari councilor elections happen every centennial. So that the liability of having retired councilors carrying around certain information is reduced."

Irissa said nothing, watching Tevos intently with abundant concern, but she had no words available.

"But that is my burden now and I voluntarily, dutifully carry it... along with my resulting _paranoia_ ," Tevos concluded in an effort to retrieve their conversation from darker areas. "Or trust issues; is that a proper summation? I believe it to be. You know I have a great dislike for acting in more... _unorthodox_ manners, but I fear that I might have to in the coming days. Maybe even to the point of personally convening with our 'Terminus friend' to bring some effective resolution to some of these issues."

" _Please_ don't tell me you want to invite her here again..."

"I'm only noncommittally considering the idea at this point," Tevos reassured the despairing Irissa. With every passing minute, the other asari seemed to descend further into exasperation. "I should confront Asari High Command before doing anything of the sort. Perhaps, if I remain very open with all my concerns and give them the same lecture I gave you about why it would be a horrible idea to sabotage Aria, they will include me in any secretive designs, or even better, discard them after my appeal if they did indeed have them."

Irissa gave a long sigh. "Yes, yes, you do that. Just another problem to add to the mountains that have been rudely dumped onto us over the past month. A massive drug resurgence, more economic dips being anticipated after the lawsuit against those corporations, another possible row with the Batarian Hegemony... and now we've got Asari High Command potentially working on something _diabolical_ again. Everything's such a mess... Might you have anything more to add?" She gave Tevos a fatalistic smile, accepting the dreary state of things and only finding ironic, almost masochistic humor in the prospect of the situation worsening.

"As a matter of fact," began the councilor, continuing even as Irissa's expression dropped into visible anxiety again, "I've been meaning to ask you something, but our time was consumed by all these talks of less jovial things. We can speak of it later, perhaps in my office when we find the time. Or tonight—whichever ends up being more convenient for us both. It's about my family's party. I want you to come with me as an additional guest." Before Irissa could answer, Tevos began walking again, through the ancient synthetic valley bathed in fuchsia-violet light leaking through the leaves above.

"Are you serious?" Irissa worriedly asked while taking a few quick paces to catch up to Tevos, whose immediate proximity had been lost through a moment spent in stationary surprise. "First of all, you've decided to go? Why? You haven't told me a thing about that. And secondly, why bring me? With all due respect, your relatives are likely to look down their noses at me, wondering why their councilor cousin brought some poor provincial with her. I'm neither of those things, let that be clear, but that's what they'll think of me. And I won't have any of that."

"If anyone's provincial it's my family themselves, ironically," Tevos said with a slight, sly smile. "Segregating themselves from the rest of society in the rural northeast, and such. I can assure you with a fair amount of confidence that you won't receive any foul comments. After all, the prestige of your occupation supersedes the blood you came from. My family is not impractical. Quite the opposite, actually. They have great use for other influential individuals, to, shall we say, become part of their circles. And to answer your other question... it would be better to discuss my plans and intentions at length on our own time. But I will tell you this now: Estulius and I deliberated yesterday, as you remember, and he presented a plan to me which I've spent the past evening and morning considering, and my current sway is actually leaning in favor of it."

"A... plan?"

"Yes. Now isn't the time to discuss it, unfortunately. We're both going to be tardy for our respective appointments if we continue chatting any longer."

"You know, Tevos," said Irissa, "despite these centuries spent being your friend, I admit that even now I'm still learning things about you. You can be frighteningly cunning, my friend. Cunning and quiet and... _surreptitious_. I once always thought to myself, 'Oh, Tevos is so honest, so gentle and harmless and always willing good unto everything and everyone'. But you've got quite a dark side sometimes. Are you aware of it, Tevos? I say this with amusement, please don't misinterpret."

Before they went their separate ways, Tevos responded to Irissa's observation with a period of silence followed by a small, partially forced but convincing smile.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Liselle nearly flinched at the Patriarch's remark. She knew he only meant to ridicule her by bringing to attention the high likelihood of her very recently being dependent on a guardian—her mother—and was not actually aware of who her mother was, but it still induced a tiny quake of fear in her chest. She exchanged a quick glance with Malak, both refraining from holstering her guns until they looked over at Rasma to seek her behest. She nodded at them, making a tacit lowering gesture with one hand to put them at ease. They did as she instructed, but did not indulge in the luxury of sitting down as the Patriarch had bade them to. Instead, Malak decided to lean against one of the couch's arms while Liselle stayed put and at attention.

Beneath the haze of red and the muffled din of Afterlife's soundtrack, Rasma stood resolutely as the Patriarch began coolly pacing about on the other side of the low glass table separating the two. Liselle was still taken aback at his stature; huge limbs despite their proportionate shortness as well as the bulk of his physiology, frighteningly wide and sturdy, and reminiscent of a volcano's countenance.

"Aria's going into the Tuhi District later today, isn't she?" the Patriarch remarked at length, eyes directed at one wall as if he found some minor detail about the mounted lights extraordinarily interesting. When he looked back at Rasma, he found latent disapproval in her cold green eyes. "It's no secret, so don't leer at me so accusingly, turian. If it was a secret Aria would never have let it leak!" He waved a hand for emphasis. "No... she _wants_ people to know. It makes things easier for her."

"How would it?" Rasma asked, canting her head a few degrees in curiosity. Something about her demeanor led Liselle to believe that she already knew the answer to her own question, and was only inquiring to hear what the Patriarch knew.

The krogan gave an amused shrug. "How would _you_ like to start hearing rumors of war coming to your neighborhood—no, worse, that a war waged by Aria T'Loak is headed your way? Most people would flee. Cowardly, but smart. Sometimes you'll see entire factions fleeing. After all, staying put wouldn't do them any good. They _know_ they're going to lose the district. At this point it's only a question of how many have the quad to stay, fight, and die. That's who Aria has to deal with. There's always a good chance that this will end up being another afternoon stroll for her like it was in the Kenzo District."

"And what relevance does that have to what's going on?" the turian pressed him.

"It has all the relevance in the world," he said with a ghost of a sly grin, teeth briefly becoming visible. "Where do you think those fleeing people go, hmm? Do they just evaporate, disappear? Do they leave Omega?" His smile resurfaced at the absurdity. "No. Most can't afford to leave, so some only migrate. But you see, the people who flee tend to only be those who are capable of mobility, meaning that countless civilians are excluded. Many can't just jump up and abandon their homes to leave Omega or even just the district they live in. Often, homes and possessions are all what many have, especially in the impoverished areas. So many have to stay."

Liselle closely watched the Patriarch as he continued to leisurely pace around—a habit Aria had as well. Perhaps that behavior was the result of their predatory dispositions. An inherent instinct to stalk and survey, something so deeply ingrained in their genes and personalities that not even the humiliation of defeat and subservience could completely uproot the inveterate practice.

The Patriarch continued. "They stay, waiting for Aria's forces to come storming down the streets to occupy them, and they have to like it. And it's become normalized. Aria wants Omega all to herself, every last corner. But you see... that's never happened before. _Never_ has one single syndicate occupied Omega's entirety, and Aria is determined to command the first! She regularly makes that quite clear. And whenever she has a problem—rival organizations, internal betrayals, information wars—she gets tight and rigid, starts cracking skulls and getting people to squeal, and when that's taken care of she goes out again and annexes more territory, killing more enemies, filling her head with mantras of _more power, more power._ Thinking that if she expands her horizons, hires more mercenaries, and keeps all the loyal folk well-paid and well-fed, they'll love her forever. They'll never leave her, because there's nothing better out there than being employed by Aria T'Loak, right? That's all that matters. Her syndicate— _only_ —matters! Her ability to wage war, the prosperity of business, her horde of political contacts, the complexity and efficiency of her information networks... That's it, isn't it? The only thing that matters in the end, the empire? Well, isn't it?" The Patriarch turned around.

None of them said anything in response to his rhetorical question, humoring him by allowing the abeyance of speech to last for as long as he originally designed. During that brief period, a flurry of thoughts entered Liselle's head. The majority revolved around visions of the 'empire' The Patriarch was referring to; the concept of Omega comprising many independent districts eternally engulfed in feudal warfare, only now being annexed under one power, one monarch, one sovereign, forcefully unifying syndicate. But was it not the inexorable course of change? That was what Aria always stated when asked; when she had eradicated an enemy and sent her legions marching into the captured district, only to be challenged by a stray question regarding the purpose or motivation for her bloody conquest and why it was necessary, to which she would kindly, quietly, yet coldly reply with a gun's muzzle pressed to their temple: _That's the course of change_.

Omega craved and demanded powerful leaders. Was Aria not the quintessential fulfillment of that demand?

Before Liselle could think any longer, the Patriarch had resumed.

"Ah, there's something missing, isn't there?" the krogan said, grinning anew. "What about those people I was talking about before? Where do they fit in all this? Does Aria have anything for them? Why yes—protection, business partnerships, jobs. But only if they have the money or skills. It's as it should be. The natural order of things. The strong and the weak, the herds that feed the predators. Until you make them live together under one roof. What I've been hearing from my pool of contacts all points to the same end."

He briefly met Liselle's gaze. She grew a bit rigid under his close scrutiny, watching his knife-like irises move over her face as the faintest suspicious expression appeared on his weathered features. It was recognition in its infancy, threatening to burst into full realization if she so much as carelessly _breathed_ in a manner remotely familiar to him. She froze entirely.

"One empire," he slowly grumbled, still carefully leering at Liselle. "No... no longer an empire. A single state. _Aria's Omega,_ or so she dreams of it. No more independent Mazat. No more Eclipse. No more Crests. No more nuisance bounty hunter guilds. No more Lorhan. But the problem with that dream is that once a regime gets too big, it starts collapsing. A united Omega is the _end_ of Omega. It doesn't want unity, and whenever any single regime becomes too bloated, it cracks and erupts and war experiences another rebirth. Spectacular battles. _Absolute chaos_." The tone of his deep voice suggested that he found a large degree of excitement at the very idea. "When Omega is only composed of many factions, everything runs smoothly without too many seismic or surprising events, because if you don't like the syndicate in your area, you can emigrate to another district. But on a united Omega, there's nowhere else to go. _Everyone's_ part of the empire now, and you have to like it. And what happens to the people who don't like it? The ones who used to just pack up and move a district over when things got bad for them?" At last he freed Liselle from examination, instead looking at all of their waiting faces in turn.

"They rise up," he said. "They cause a storm and they fight. As it should be, like I said before. They fight and others join them for the sheer glory of rebellion alone. Omega wants war. Omega wants blood, _eternal_ blood. And as the most powerful person on this station, Aria must satiate that hunger or be consumed herself. She can't have it both ways. If she wants to stay where she is—if she wants to keep running things like she does right now—she's going to have to retire that fantasy of hers, the one about owning every bit of this place. Unless she wants to start conducting ritual sacrifices." He let out a short laugh. "Imagine that. False wars. Manipulating and pitting her own districts against each other like massive fighting pits... Maybe this idea of hers isn't so bad after all!" The Patriarch laughed again.

"Have you told Aria about your... prediction?" Rasma asked him.

"Yes, yes, I've told Aria all this, of course." He dismissively waved a hand at her. "It's my _humble obligation_ to do so. But what do I know? I'm just an old man who sits around all day drinking her liquor and telling stories to anyone who'll listen about my long past glory days. Living in the past, obsolete and weaker than she is. So why listen to me? Why allow the opinion of the broken shell of a warlord to prohibit her from reaching her goals?"

Rasma paused. "So what you're saying is that civilians have been the ones causing Aria the most trouble? Not other factions or powerful individuals? Is that what you've heard from everyone who's talked about it?"

The Patriarch made a low grumbling sound in negation, gathering his thoughts into a reply. "Well of course you've got your array of rivals. Parem Igrahal from Mazat. Drialus Lorhan from Zeta. Aria keeps her eyes on them at all times, especially lately. Doesn't kill them though. No, no, she won't touch them. It would be too messy, and more importantly, they're more useful alive and obsequious to her than dead."

While Parem Igrahal did not ring any bells, Liselle had seen rare images of Drialus Lorhan before. A tall grizzled turian in finely-tailored black suits, always frowning, and his appearance made excruciatingly salient by his cybernetic eye and arm; like a physical fusion of body and wealth.

He eyed them with great purpose. "She'll eventually kill them. Both of them. I've lived long enough to have seen the same thing happen dozens of times before. By appeasing her they're only postponing the inevitable. You would think they're the ones lashing out at Aria, trying to save themselves, but that would never be the whole story. There has to be a greater demand for these things. Outside support, people invisible to Aria's spies. Listen to this old man who once had Omega, who it knew it like the back of his hand: if you want to find them, sweep the streets..."

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

The air hung low, warm, and heavily over the yard. A truck was being loaded with containers packed to capacity with weapons, medical supplies, and other victuals necessary to support a lengthy spell of bloodshed in the Tuhi District, scheduled to begin just a few hours from that exact moment. Hirelings were busying about; tallying cargo, radioing the designated recipients of the shipment, and preparing the four cars assigned to escort the truck in a well-defended caravan. Mercenaries were hopping into these cars, closing the doors and checking if all darkly-tinted windows retracted properly into hollow slots in the doors—as was the expectation after spending a long afternoon modifying the cars in a way which allowed gunmen to defend their fleet without having to open the doors entirely. The assessment went well. All proponents of the swift and discreet operation were running efficiently beneath the eyes of two superior officers, which came as no surprise. Their scrutiny loomed over the bustling area, settling over their bodies like a thick shadow; inspiring haste, precision, and duty if only by pressure.

The pair loitered away from the scene, far enough to not be interrupted by their business, but close enough to practice their unyielding surveillance. The salarian officer shifted his weight from one foot to another. His nerves had never before compromised his composure, not even on the eve of battle, but something about this skirmish was different. He couldn't put a finger on what it was, but some vague aspect about the Tuhi District was auspicious. It didn't make much sense, as it was a good a time as any to finally swoop in and seize that district from the frantically grasping claws of the smaller, weaker factions desperately battling for control. He shouldn't have been very concerned. It was irrational to be overly concerned. After all, Aria's syndicate had been accumulating massive amounts of territory just over the few past months. With every conquered district they seemed to gain momentum, decreasing the difficulty of annexing their following targets and lighting their blood with fires of eagerness, transforming them into beasts of battle hungering for the next siege.

So what could have been breeding uneasiness within his gut? Was there a superstition drifting about his head, such as the common fable of terrible trouble inevitably following a period of prosperity? Or was it just borne from a prolonged span of time in Aria T'Loak's unsettling presence?

She was standing against a private cab—a vessel of dark glossy red—that she had called to ferry her back to Afterlife when she was done monitoring the preparations. There was a cigarette between her fingers, and her eyes were as haunting and fearsome as the solemn eve of war they saw. And she was the only one in the area not holding a flawlessly erect posture; instead she was complacent and leisurely, as if she were on a permanent stroll through her tumultuous life, or as if managing yet another war campaign was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. It was her homeostasis, as natural as the blood in her veins. She inhaled, breathed war—the ashes and fire of battle, like the smoke being drawn past her lips and soon expelled into languid trails of pale gray.

"I want reports from both you and Lieutenant Dissia," she said to him. "Tell me everything—casualties, advances, estimates of enemy losses, our losses, the weapons they're using. Just keep me sufficiently updated on regular intervals. Every few hours at the least."

He gave a nod before Aria glanced away to observe the last containers being secured onto the truck.

She remained pensive for a moment, her face darkened by an anticipatory, crooked angling of her lips. "It should be easy for all of you. A clean run. At this point, we're just pushing out the rival gangs and exterminating anyone stupid enough to hold their ground. They'll be retreating into other territories where they'll soon start fighting over the limited space, and we'll be waiting to pick up the pieces after they've exhausted their own numbers." She returned her eyes to the officer as the perpetually-roasting hues of light once again cradled the outline of her head; jaw and cheek and crest. "This is the opportunity of the century, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes," he dutifully said, finding no other appropriate way to answer. "Is that what we can expect happening over the next few weeks—making a process out of this strategy?"

"You should expect it, yes. But of course, it's liable to change at my discretion." Aria pulled away from the skycar, straightening out her back before holding out her cigarette for the officer to take. He received it with some confusion, peering down at the still-burning item and examined a few letters stamped onto the quality paper. When he looked up again, Aria was tapping her hand onto the skycar's door, informing the pilot of her desire to leave. The doors promptly issued a click and smooth hiss as they opened.

"Let me know when you rendezvous with Dissia," she said to the salarian while boarding the vehicle. "Try not to disappoint me." Without waiting for his explicit confirmation, the doors shut again and the skycar began to steadily rise from the marked landing area.

"Afterlife," she told the pilot, one of her asari guards, from the back row of seats. Without delay a course was set and they soon merged into the busy traffic after leaving the secluded area through an avenue between two colossal towers. While traveling through the vast, cavernous expanse destined for the eventual colonization of the wealthy and their ever-expanding jungles of buildings—all to be erected with Aria's permission and blessing, of course—she transferred her attention from the view beyond the window to her omni-tool. She began reading various files.

Things were going quite smoothly at the moment. Slowly, but smoothly. A near-infallible algorithm had been devised to aid her ambitions of conquering mass amounts of territory in a series of temporally close campaigns, and it was already yielding tremendous results. She was leading a wave of unstoppable change, a relentless charge forward into districts whose ownership she had quietly coveted for years but abstained from acting rashly on instinctual greed and desire. She had patiently abided for this era, this glorious window of time when a surge of unnatural, prolonged violence shook her rivals into vulnerability and internal discord.

Other factions were crumbling at her feet, going extinct, and Omega was making way for the dominant organism whose bulk and power inhabited more and more space as it grew after consuming failing, weaker prey like some magnificent invention tasked with cleansing the station of the ill-adapted and making way for the superior few. Her empire was opening its maw wide, swallowing enemies whole and sending them scurrying away at a single glance of its rearing head and gleaming teeth; relegating, herding the survivors into doomed enclaves soon to be occupied and devoured as well.

Her long-standing goal of being Omega's first unifying ruler, a role once restricted to absurd fantasy, was gradually materializing before her. And she grasped for it, continually throwing away hordes of foes who would try impeding her reach with the ever-present threat of sudden death, which had recently nearly taken her. But it hadn't. Like always, as Aria willed, she had successfully thrashed free of another impending demise and had emerged only more indomitable by acquiring experience extracted from her minor mistake. And after issuing a vow to never repeat the same mistake again, yet another mode of silencing Aria T'Loak was made unavailable to all her enemies.

The series of setbacks plaguing her syndicate were only temporary, as it was only natural to encounter resistance during periods of great activity. It would all be dealt with soon, and her realm would expand again.

Aria had received Rasma Visiom's report earlier that day, and as she predicted, her team failed to obtain useful information from the Patriarch; not anything that wasn't already known. The old fool had outlived his usefulness as an advisor, now condemned in her mind to a titular, empty position. These days he only spewed nonsense, perhaps only to annoy Aria by claiming that her ambitions were impossible to reach. The problem lied in perspective.

Aria was not the Patriarch. She was not bound by the same limitations he was. She was smarter, more organized, and more powerful than he had ever been. How could that krogan possibly claim to understand Omega better than she did, when he had failed in the end as its ruler? He was just a head on a pike, a warning to her enemies, except twice as effective as a literal, inanimate, decapitated head—for he could still talk. He could tell his tale of failure and defeat. And that was much, much sadder. A great warlord cut down and usurped in his prime after a glorious battle was honorable and memorable, but a man left to wither and decay into a forgotten, pathetic shadow whose eventual death would only lead him into further obscurity was more terrifying than death itself.

Despite the lack of progress for that specific team, others were doing well. There was much ground to cover after being presented with many different leads, and Aria would have to be diligent in deciding which ones to prioritize and pursue. Only one issue was currently troubling her a mentionable amount; the disappearance of Anikot. It was a very peculiar case. There were no transactions made from any of his accounts, and tapping his communications produced nothing but utter silence. The only remaining explanations were that he had smuggled himself aboard a ship and escaped Omega unbeknownst to Omega Control, or that he was dead. Both seemed equally probable, but Aria would rather have him alive and at large than dead. A live Anikot was extraordinarily valuable solely for the information in his head, and Aria had never crossed a single individual who could successfully hide something she wanted from them. Whether held at gunpoint, battered until bloody and broken, after having the lives of family or loved ones put at stake, or even through measures more extreme than those, Aria would infallibly have her information by the end of the day.

Aside from affairs on Omega, Aria's relationship with a certain foreign ally, the Citadel—the _Council;_ no, _Councilor Tevos_ —was... decidedly healthy. The nature of the relationship mattered very little to Aria, so long as it was performing in her favor, which it was. Tevos's _little slip_ the previous night reinforced Aria's suspicion that the asari councilor still had certain vestiges of predilection for Aria, which was extremely useful to know. Maybe, with a bit of extra effort and prodding, she could finally persuade Tevos into _helping_ her with a few select favors. But Aria almost rolled her eyes at the thought, recalling that _fifty years_ spent trying to bend the councilor to her will had been fruitless. Aria frowned, realizing that she may not gain much at all from the incident last night.

But if she were to gain nothing else from it, Aria had at least found great amusement in Tevos's words, even to the point of casually entertaining the idea of one day somehow arranging for them to drink while in each other's company. If alcohol opened the councilor up from her usual non-emotive and prudish behavior, perhaps _more_ amusing corruptions of clear-thought were just waiting for Aria to reap.

_And it would be nice to get rid of some of your damned, constant affectation_ , Aria thought with some annoyance. _You can't honestly expect me to believe that you naturally speak and write that way..._

Aria's finger paused over a lit block of words projected from her omni-tool when she heard the subtle chime of the skycar's autopilot feature being switched on. Her body froze at that anomaly in order to detect the faintest of sounds and movements in her immediate environment, which arrived in the form of the pilot shifting in her seat and looking over the upholstery-clad shoulder while orienting herself in Aria's direction. Something was raised. Then, a faint click, with complete stillness following.

In the brooding darkness of the skycar, Aria tilted her head a few degrees before feigning a lack of attention, moving her fingers over the omni-tool's interface again without detectably expressing a single care in the world. While neglecting to look up at the pilot and with a cold, almost mechanically unconcerned tone in her speech, she asked her, "Are you sure you want to do that?"

Silence reigned over the vehicle's interior, only broken by the steady hum of the engine. Light flashed over their bodies from outside sources, morphing Aria's concentrating expression into dire variants, all defined by thick black shadows that only accentuated what terrible danger lied in wait beneath her composure. A gun pointed at her head had only angered her beyond all mercy, and it was only fitting for the pilot to be allowed a spare moment to reflect on her life and every mistake leading up to this single moronic point. Aria wanted the traitor to feel emptied by terror, to feel her own death before it even arrived. She would feel it through Aria's apathy, her refusal to acknowledge any sort of danger, thus rendering the pilot's essential suicide as pointless and inconsequential. A waste. The ultimate price for naught.

It was a suiting last string of thoughts for a traitor, Aria believed.

Aria gave an anticipatory jerk of her head the very instant she detected a minor quivering in the pilot's wrist, a mere shifting of tendons, and was removed from the path of a bullet tearing right through the seat, centimeters from her cheek, and burying itself deep within the skycar's body. Before another shot could be fired, Aria had ripped the gun out of her assailant's hand and was lunging forward, viciously seizing the guard's head in her hands and giving it a swift, thorough, and forceful twist with the aid of her biotics phantasmally flickering along her fists. A loud crack accompanied the snapping of the asari's neck. When Aria released her, she immediately went limp and slumped over.

Aria heaved the traitor into the passenger's seat, dumping the body unceremoniously and haphazardly out of the way before stepping through the alley between the two front seats and sliding into the pilot's former position. The skycar's holographically projected interface glowed before her, awaiting her input. She quickly assessed the autopilot setting, discerning the set course and what corrections needed to be made, if any, to deliver her to her intended destination, but after analyzing the currently set course, her facial expression steeled. The skycar was programmed to arrive at a massive business tower under Aria's protection, but there was no highlighted parking zone for the skycar's computer to reserve by broadcasting a signal to other traveling vehicles heading for the same location. Rather, the bright orange map on the dash, marked with an overlaying green line that displayed their planned course via the winding, entangled traffic ways, abruptly ended in a morbid red where it ran straight through a lot labeled with the name and address of the business tower. Aria reached over to access the skycar's autopilot settings, checking if the automatic proximity aversion was perhaps malfunctioning. It was, in theory, almost impossible to collide with another object with the autopilot enabled. The computer in the vehicle had thousands of safety programs designed to evade oncoming obstacles by rerouting course or rapidly maneuvering to dodge other problematic pilots. Aria's mercenaries rarely used the autopilot feature only because it was not usually in their interests to… _conventionally_ navigate Omega; instead preferring to take uncharted shortcuts or hastily weave in and out of traffic, a feat the autopilot was generally not capable of performing.

To her chagrin, Aria found the safety features not malfunctioning, but manually disabled altogether. When she tried to override, a menacing red error flickered up from the interface, requesting a specific encryption key to alter any settings, route included. Her brow was dangerously slanted into a fierce glare, shadows pooling in the enraged crease as she turned her eyes to the previous pilot. The asari was lying half on the floor, half on the seat with a pair of blank eyes endlessly staring upward at the dark ceiling of the skycar, shimmering flickers of radiant light from the control panel and the cities leaking in from the windows gliding across her lax features and swimming around in soulless irises.

Aria reached over to grab her by the front of a black-painted chest plate, hypothesizing that the key was encoded in the traitor's ID. If she pressed her still-warm hand to the panel, there was a considerable chance it would grant her access. As she began hauling her weight up, however, Aria noticed yet another pressing issue—a red blinking light embedded in the chest armor, likely wired to her hardsuit's internal computer, was flashing and fading with the pace of an average heart rate, but with every successful blink, the pace steadily accelerated.

She looked away, turning her pale eyes to the window in bitter annoyance with a muttered, "Shit."

Her averted gaze yielded the sight of a long strip of street bordering the exterior of a spire, serving as a bridge between it and another neighboring one, and populated exiguously. It had potential as a landing strip, or in Aria's case of being rather pressed for time, somewhere to land after leaping from the vehicle. But at these speeds, any escape attempt made would end in complete annihilation as nothing more than a bloody, pulpy streak smeared along the metal pathway.

Aria reflexively lifted her arms, reaching out to press the palms of her hands against the frame of the skycar, and cloaked the entire vessel in a stasis field to act as an improvised emergency brake. She strained to hold it while fighting the powerful, reliable engine desperately trying to maintain its high speeds. With a harsh, drawn-out utterance of a vulgarity forming on her lips, the vehicle gradually began decreasing in momentum. Around her, as seen through the tinted windows, other skycars were zipping past in blurs of light and color, many forced to swiftly evade the obstacle Aria had created in that lane of space she occupied. She tried reorienting the skycar a few degrees in the direction of the street to increase her odds of a successful escape.

When the vehicle had decelerated to survivable speeds, an eerie, rippling hum reverberated around the interior as she collapsed the stasis field inward, wavering in blue illumination as it was repurposed into a powerful barrier. The veneer of energy coated every inch of Aria's body as she braced one hand against the skycar's curving inner frame to her side and the other against the ceiling. With the gained leverage and the combination of strength and biotics, she delivered a brutal kick to the window, and her heel smashed a sizable aperture through the thick surface. She kicked at it again, adding to the web-like cracks splayed out from the center of impact, and with a final blow the entire window popped out of place, quickly breaking into chunks of razor-sharp panes that were swept away as they began to fall.

Aria perched herself in the opening, now standing—balancing—on the helm of the vehicle, exposed to the uncanny vista of Omega's malicious cities lit by ceaseless activity; a canyon lined with entreating, radiant advertisements crying out for the potential consumer's attention. As momentum-generated winds whipped her white jacket about, Aria faced the street, positioning her legs and feet in preparation, but there still lied an impressive gap between her and safety, one impossible to traverse with physical strength alone. In a final, resourceful decision, Aria extended one arm to her side opposite from the street, and let a violent flare burst into existence. The crackling, resounding explosion of biotics engulfed one side of the skycar, forcing it to falter and veer in direction of the street, closing the gorge after the energy tore at its body, bending and shredding metal with sharp, splitting bangs and pops.

Once she was close enough Aria leapt from the vehicle, but just before she landed, a second explosion rang out, this one sending a wave of scorching heat through the air, nearly brushing the back of her neck as she crumpled down in a failed attempt to land gracefully. Inertia stole all stable purchase from beneath her feet and sent her rolling and skidding along the street as if she were being carried down the fierce currents of an exuberant river, all occurring under a savage, molten deluge of debris and brimstone. An entire section of the metal fencing erected as the street's guardrail was being ripped up by the nose of the skycar, fragmenting into high-velocity shrapnel that sang in haunting timbres as it was struck and sent sailing forward. Burning remnants of the chassis warped by force and heat were screaming by overhead. Deafening crashes of metal smashing down like meteorites surrounded her on all sides, and her visual comprehension of the hellish scene was frantic and disorganized at best—all that registered were flashes of twisted, mangled pieces of the red skycar striking the street with piercing metallic screeches and scrapes, many unpredictably ricocheting upward again like wildly-spinning blades.

Aria at last slid to a stop with her barely-intact barrier weakly flickering to death. Just as she began to raise her head, a deep shadow settled over her face, ominously announcing the approach of a massive object. It was a large, unidentifiable portion of the skycar, and it was collecting innumerable dents as it bounced along the street, hurtling toward her. With her biotics completely exhausted for at least the next few minutes, Aria dropped her head back down, bracing herself against the street as the wreckage thundered closer and closer. The metal mass struck down in front of her with a harsh boom, entered the air once more, rolled right over her prone position, and continued on its loud, reckless course.

Yet again she raised her head while supporting her weight on her forearms, lifting herself up and becoming aware of small scratches and soon-to-be bruises in various places on her anatomy. Other than those acquired wounds, she was perfectly unharmed. After rising to her feet, Aria assessed her situation. The few people traveling through the area had fled or were in the process of fleeing; one was on the ground, likely struck by a stray piece of the skycar's body, and some were tentatively peering out of the cover they had taken to see if the sudden disaster had quelled. They were staring at her, fearfully marveling at Omega's lone queen rising unscathed amid a field of still-burning ruins after falling from the sky in a hail of fire and death. There were absolutely no traces of terror in her eyes or posture whatsoever—only anger and irritation, like the maliciously smoldering embers and residual flames littering the street, gently exhaling plumes of fine ash into the air.

After surveying the area, Aria located an organic mass; the disfigured, blackened remains of the dead asari lying near the wide breach in the metal guardrail where she had presumably landed after being thrown from the skycar. What was left of her was hardly recognizable, and Aria had only detected her by the familiar sight of splintered armor ripped open by the blast, now in a shape resembling an arrangement of outward-jutting, curling knives. The corpse warranted an investigation.

To her great bewilderment after approaching a few paces, the body stirred. She initially believed she had imagined the movement, but as she watched closely while drawing nearer, the movements persisted. It was no hallucination. The corpse was _moving_ , reaching out with its single intact arm and beginning to slowly drag itself along the street toward Aria, who stopped in her tracks to observe the unnerving phenomenon with wide, perplexed blue eyes. But before long, it stopped just a few meters away, lying still once more as nothing but a heap of burnt flesh and seared armor.

Recollections of Olat Dar'nerah filled her head at once. But this time… she had seen it for herself. Not through a recording, not through the witness testimony, but through her very own eyes, her very own conscious experience. And like before, she was much less disturbed as she was confounded. After suspiciously traveling over the rest of the distance separating her from the corpse, Aria crouched and rolled the dead asari onto her back.

There was little face to speak of. Most had all been burned or ripped away, and only a single eye had been spared total obliteration. It was dull and hazy with death, a generally reliable indicator that the woman had been dead for at least a few hours. But that didn't fit with the circumstance; she had been alive just a few minutes previously, first piloting her transportation then drawing a gun and firing at Aria's head. Did the heat play a part in spoiling her body? That was certainly a reasonable explanation.

_But how did you get in that fucking car?_ she wondered. _  
_

Aria reached out with two fingers, briefly tapping them against the damaged armor to test the surface's temperature. Her fingertips captured a brief, sharp pang of heat. To protect her hands from burns, Aria used her recuperated biotics to help her peel off portions of armor, intending to examine the state of the body hidden beneath in hopes to discover what had enabled it to animate itself in spite of death.

_If she hadn't pulled that gun on me,_ she thought in agitation, _she might have actually done some damage. If this was purely a suicide run, she would've kept her head low and sent us both up in flames without a word. It looks like the explosive was wired to her vital signs, only activated in the event of death… And judging by the damage, it's similar to what was used to take Pasora out. The car was already going down, but this made it a lot more violent... And she was acting with the chance of survival in mind, resorting to detonation only if she failed—and if she wanted to survive, or if her superiors promoted her survival, something about her life was worth trying to preserve or destroy. But, more important than killing me…?_

Aria was almost insulted.

During her search, she migrated to the arm and pried off a shoulder guard only to find that the piece was composed of two parts—an abnormality among most manufacturers. Deciding the detail was important enough to secure her attention, Aria separated the two parts in her hands and was left with a thin plate in one, and in the other, a scratched and scuffed shoulder cap. It was painted with immaculate white over a soothing blue background, and the symbol depicted was six vertical segments arranged into a shallow valley, creating a point at its minimum with wings symmetrically rising from it on either ends; and around the base of the insignia was a thin halo, encircling the inverted peak.

Aria rose from her crouch, turning over the piece in her hands as rage began to simmer throughout her body.

This asari, whoever she had been, was a Spectre. Or at the very least, there was some motive for wearing Spectre armor. So how had she obtained it, if she were not one? Spectres were not careless, nor were they easy to track and kill by hunters of any breed. Well, unless they were _Aria T'Loak_ , of course, as she generally had a very good idea about how many Spectres were on or near Omega at any given moment, and always had people monitoring their activities throughout their time in the Terminus Systems. Aria only rarely intercepted them out of courtesy for Councilor Tevos, so long as the Spectres stayed out of her way. And for the most part, they did. They stayed far away from Aria, likely at the advisement of their wise employers.

But this… what was _this?_ As she gripped the emblem in her hand, Aria began to involuntarily bristle. Was this a legitimate Spectre? If it was… she had been fooled and betrayed by yet another valuable ally, and this time it was her most potent link to the Citadel and the Council races. A political leader with massive influence over those immense territories, and one who Aria had _trusted_ with severely sensitive information that could easily contribute to her downfall if used against her.

_Do I have to make you my enemy?_ she sent her thoughts in Councilor Tevos's general direction. _Or is someone else trying to make you my enemy, like what we considered a few days ago? A pressing question…_

"Neora!"

Aria turned in the direction of the shout, still holding the Spectre insignia in one hand where she stood over the asari's body and among the scattered spouts of fire dotting the street. Her eyes found the shape of a salarian emerging from cover, pushing past two other bystanders utilizing a parked skycar as protection. He had his omni-tool out, running a tracking program. He promptly closed the windows, and the moment he drew a gun and pointed it in Aria's direction, she turned to face him, unamused by the bold approach.

"What the hell did you do to her!?" he demanded, his large eyes wider than ever before, reflecting his swirling rage and horror at the sight of the blackened, mutilated form at Aria's feet. "Do you have any idea what you've done?! What you'll be answering to for murdering her!? You _bitch!_ You're going to throw us into a war at this rate!"

She observed him with great displeasure, looking over his appearance; basic armor with little if any striking qualities, but the firearm in his hands was, curiously, of very high quality. With swift realization permeating her head regarding his identity and affiliations, and without losing an ounce of her standard intimidation, Aria said to him, "You really don't want to be the second person to point a gun at me today."

Having another Spectre die that day was not in her agenda. Giving him the opportunity to stand down before delivering the man to a similar fate as his fellow operative might reward Aria with precious information about what had happened, so instead of instinctively reacting to the drawn gun by tearing its owner to pieces, she remained at peace. Aria turned over the shoulder cap in her hands a few times, examining the stately symbol, then held it up for the salarian to see. "You're one of these, aren't you?" she knowingly asked him. "To my knowledge, a few of the Council's Spectres have been spying on Omega. It was nothing I particularly cared about. Your superiors were smart enough to keep you away from my organization and its networks, so there was little animosity. But tell me this… Why does a Spectre suddenly think it's a good idea to try to kill me? And more importantly, if someone gave her that order, who?"

The Spectre watched her intensely, frozen in place with the gun still pointed at Aria. "No, I don't believe a word of that. We were _specifically forbidden_ from getting anywhere near you. Neora had no orders, no motive, none _whatsoever_ to attack you…!"

"So you have access to her orders?" she inquired, leering fiercely at him to demand and extract a truthful answer. "You know _everything_ her superiors told her?"

"I…" He lowered his gun, eyes flitting around with doubt and fear of the unthinkable.

"This is unacceptable," Aria curtly concluded while tossing the emblem at him to catch. She turned away, contemptuously leering at a particularly large portion of the burning skycar lying on the street amid the other debris. "I don't think your superiors were stupid enough to order an attack on me, but if they knew this _Neora_ was rogue, on Omega with violent intentions while carrying Citadel-funded weapons and resources, and if they deliberately neglected to do anything about it... We're going to have a bit of a problem." She turned back toward the somber Spectre, intending to instruct him to follow her back to Afterlife where they would hold conference with the Council to _civilly_ address the issue, but as she did, her eyes immediately darted elsewhere.

His gaze followed hers, and the two were left to witness the last sight of Neora's boot sliding and vanishing over the side of the street, falling through the destroyed portion of its railing. They moved simultaneously, rushing over to the edge in horror and surprise. Below their feet, the dark outline of the asari's body was lost in the hazy chasm of shadows, passing through the occasional beam of light emanating from lower, industrious structures. She was an illusory ghost fleeting into obscurity—becoming nothing more to their eyes than a single fleck of ash in Omega's sooty depths.

While Aria uttered an acrid curse at losing both the body and the opportunity to properly examine it, the Spectre was stunned and aghast with disbelief. She could see the confusion in his eyes, the disturbed pallor beneath their sockets, and the bewitched anger boiling in his blood. It was an understandable reaction to the scene, Aria judged. After all, this was the stuff of nightmares, of urban legend and wild fantasy, things his training had never prepared him to confront. The reanimated dead was nothing but a theme of popular cinema. Neither of them wanted to use the obvious colloquialism in mind to give a name to the vanished corpse, the grotesque source of their distress and an icon representing all the horrors and troubles which had been violently manifesting before them as of late. They would rather let it stay eerily nameless than assigning it the moniker of a _joke_.

"What's happening...?" the salarian quietly asked aloud, dire and severe as he genuinely implored Aria for an answer.

She turned away from the abyss to address the question, having no mercy reserved for him, "Something was done to your friend... and I highly doubt it was something pleasant or posthumous."


	9. An Unorthodox Alliance

**DAILY SCHOLAR — "Governance on Omega"**

_[An excerpt from an essay on Terminus Space 'law' and the structure of society, centering on the mining station Omega, written by Dranta Lorkess]_

A complete lack of central, unifying government on Omega has been a long-accepted perception of the system which traditionally exists in that territory of the galaxy. There are no official taxes [however this is liable to change at the discretion of the ruling faction in an area], no justice system [save for the actions victims of crimes take on their own], and no universal definition of Omegan 'citizenship' [or even confirmation of its existence, for that matter]. The sheer dearth of institutional order suspends Omega in what is widely regarded as perpetual war as territories are constantly divided, captured, lost, damaged, or bought between the factions scrambling for power. The only role resembling leadership or ownership of the station prevails in _de facto_ claims issued by the most powerful and influential warlords. But at what point can a warlord claim de facto ownership of Omega and expect his or her claim to be acknowledged by the countless other entities battling over municipalities and districts? Throughout the station's history, a pattern arises which all previous de facto leaders have adhered to; a distinct list of prerequisites, or a threshold of presence which all aspiring leaders must meet or surpass in order to be recognized by the denizens of Omega:

Control over Omega Command, patrols monitoring the Sahrabarik relays and traffic, the financial health to maintain Omega's life support, environmental, and power systems, and the occupation of the majority of territory on Omega.

As with all her predecessors, the current self-proclaimed ruler of Omega Aria T'Loak has met these prerequisites and has been in power for approximately one century since she laid siege to the previous dominating syndicate. Her possessed 'majority of territory' in recent months, however, has been rapidly increasing in a way that suggests Aria T'Loak may be planning on conquering the station in its entirety—a feat never before achieved in recorded history. As word of the possibility steadily percolates throughout Terminus Space and even into Citadel Council-controlled areas, economists, sociologists, and political scientists around the galaxy are watching with bated breath—some in unnerved apprehension—but most in fascination, of what would become of Omega's tumultuous structure if a single power ever managed to unite it. Would government evolve from the primordial havoc? Would this feudal, undefinable phenomenon of a society grow into a full-fledged oligarchy, or perhaps a more focused monarchy-resembling [provided that the current leadership has heirs or otherwise chosen successors] state?

At the moment, Aria T'Loak enforces no tariffs or other taxes. Essentials such as power, water, and mercenary protection are purchased by the individual, but basic life support systems throughout her districts are solely funded and maintained by her organization. Diplomatic and ambassadorial duties are reserved for T'Loak alone [which she may arbitrarily extend to others or appoint them to positions capable of functioning in that manner], who is acknowledged by foreign governments as representational of Omega despite the nature of her rise to power, as it has become common for most peoples to accept the de facto ruler of Omega as the sole conduit through which rudimentary relations or treaties may be established. Local gangs are permitted to independently continue their activities in T'Loak's territory so long as they sign and uphold terms of contractual treaties.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Liselle made another dejected return to the apartment that afternoon following her team's dispersal. After the Patriarch had finished rambling on about what he thought of the situation and the possible identities of the enemy stalking Aria and her syndicate, he had gone on to retell how he had managed Omega during the days when he held power. By the end of the _two hours_ spent in that small private lounge, the team was exhausted from listening to histrionic accounts of previous centuries, and were paradoxically eager to leave when their conversation was over as well as disappointed from not obtaining a definitive, reliable lead from the Patriarch.

Once in the apartment, Liselle sat down and talked with Iaera, who attempted to lighten Liselle's disdainful mood by inquiring about her team. Unfortunately, most traits Liselle had observed about them were negative ones. They were both absorbed in their own investments, she said to Iaera.

Although Rasma Visiom was obviously intelligent and focused, she was perhaps _too_ focused, almost to a degree where it became inflexibility. Nothing except the mission seemed to matter to that one, and to Rasma, Aria's word was law. She viewed the world through a single pinhole, carried the sole purpose of a soldier completely willing to be recruited as a tool or another prosaic component in Aria's grand machine only because it enabled her to pursue her goals of what Liselle suspected to be undiluted revenge. But that made her cold, Liselle said. Unapproachable and unrelateable—a disposition committing a disservice to her designated role as their team's acting leader. She did not unify them. Liselle and Malak were given no incentive nor invitation to rally around Rasma, who would much rather grip their heads, force them to face a certain direction, and shove them toward that objective without any supporting motivation save for the unquestionable orders given by their boss. She'd leer at them with pale green eyes, the deeper, richer shade of ominous emerald shifting along the exterior plating of her face as she spoke and conducted them; ultimately standing afar, and only giving praise or confirming her respect for her two companions whenever they acted in a way that deeply impressed her.

And Malak Lekahn, so decorated by the pirates he once worked for, had the disposition of a temperamental young man. He was swimming in scorn, unable to move on from the nepotistic losses he had endured upon his cousin's death. There were times when Liselle wanted to cruelly ask him whether or not he was actually worth anything without Olat's favoritism, but technically she was not supposed to have been aware of the nature of his occupation, and insulting Malak so boldly would only result in losing a portion of what little cooperation they had through episodes of arguing. But surely Aria had recruited him for a reason. Surely Malak was valuable beyond the role of bodyguard-like muscle. Perhaps he was one of those _eccentric_ types; prodigies with minor cognitive or emotional deficits that one had to tolerate in order to benefit from the gifted mind concealed far beneath strata of difficulty. But that was just wishful thinking, Liselle recognized as her tone became doleful.

While making her way down the hallway, Liselle thought back to the conversation her team held after emerging from Afterlife. As Rasma composed her report to Aria, Malak had expressed his dissatisfaction with the Patriarch's claim, calling the krogan's perspective _speculation at best_. Rasma had dismissed his personal opinions as irrelevant to the mission, leaving Liselle to actually agree with the man for once. She didn't say anything to him, but Malak's simple derision had propagated a string of thoughts that occupied her mind for hours. The Patriarch's predictions weren't worthless, of course, but something about them was... _lacking_. He suspected civilian uprisings and organized attacks were the main source of trouble befalling Aria's syndicate, but judging from the careful planning and execution of the assassinations, the culprits definitely had training and access to expensive weapons, tech, armor, and as revealed, _poisons_.

Mobs did not inflict damage in such a sophisticated manner. Unhappy masses rose up in the form of loud storms racing down streets, throwing improvised projectiles and homemade grenades at the heads of authorities while shouting their demands. But there were no mobs. None that couldn't be swiftly dispersed after their formation.

As it stood alone, the Patriarch's claim crumbled.

When Liselle retired to her room, she spent a moment standing at the foot of her bed, staring down at where her pack lied slightly crumpled upon the top sheet, its contents warping its form by creating dips and creases where the dark material wrapped around and clung to the objects stored within. Tempered orange light tinted and cradled the box-shaped room in burnt rays, throwing deep shadows against the stark canvas of the wall opposite from the wide window, producing moving echoes of the maiden pulling the pack open and removing perishable items. She ceased her motions as a peculiar feeling drifted into her head, averting her attention as the mood spread throughout her body and drew her eyes to the source of the baleful glow.

She looked out the window as her hands relaxed at her sides, watching distant vessels soar between towers like insects in a vast hive, lit by little candles of industry in the dark whose flames adamantly burned throughout an endless day in anticipation of a night that would never arrive. They were fixed in time, forever idling on the limits of a single dwindling hour, sentenced to flicker on the false promises of rest and peace. Liselle gravitated toward the glass pane, coming to a stop beside her desk where it stood pulled up to the sill so time spent studying or browsing the extranet would be under a healthy bath of light. She folded her arms without thinking, continuing to stare off into the cityscape, eyes tracing the jungle of black power cables hanging between nearby spires like a system of connective tissue and veins quietly pulsing with vital energy.

She looked away again, struggling to make sense of the sudden illness gripping her mind—a restless sickness, of being suffocated or made defunct. After casting a brief glance at the waxy synthetic leaves of the fake plant in the corner beside her desk, watching the fiery light glaze over the curving arcs of their spines, Liselle reached down to her belt, unfastened her pistol, and laid it out on her vacant workspace. The firearm was soon joined by its new ally the submachine gun, and there they sat placidly and motionlessly as their owner brooded over their position, triggers neglected, ammunition unspent, and bodies as cold as stone.

The illness pervading the maiden's thoughts finally presented her with a comprehensible question: why was she so offended at being kept out of action? Was it her pride grimacing at the idea of being underestimated, excluded; or was she just childishly eager to get her hands dirty with the tempting, fascinating grime of a world enclosing yet imprisoning her since birth? Was it age, like what everyone insisted was the reason behind her desire to leap into the fray? Maidenhood—like what Iaera said when Liselle expressed her agonizing boredom and trapped feelings, or was it deeper than that? Something justified, innate, and independent of her years?

She carried old memories inside her skull of times during her childhood when her mother taught her how to hold and fire a gun. Eidetic memories came to her then, recalling Aria's stronger, larger hands fitting over her smaller, delicate ones, guiding her fingers around the gun's hand grip, a finger to the trigger, a lecture about a steady aim and a small released breath upon taking the shot—and when she monitored her first biotic attempts—Aria standing nearby in that lonely quarry-like area within huge walls of buildings, talking her through the focusing of her biotics while executing an attack—before entrusting Zuria with her. Teaching her the way of Omega as if nothing else in the universe mattered, nothing but survival through instruments of violence imposed onto a child expected to follow the paths of fantastic, powerful predecessors. To contribute or even surpass the former generation in excellence, as the nature of evolution demanded. Within her burned something inherited, a _need_ for success like a fuel for her soul with no other substitute.

Liselle gently set the gun back down onto her desk, moving beneath the gloss of orange. Her fingers almost trembled, the urge to leave the apartment again virtually spilling from her nerves. They were withdrawals from being weaned off the taste of freedom, of uncertainty and danger—undoubtedly another inherited proclivity. With the taste of Omega's smoke-lined, blood-particulated air on her tongue, coating her very lungs, Liselle could only think about running out into that wide metal snare again; the place of her birth, the realm most likely to house most of her life, and perhaps... even her death, if Omega so chose to swallow and keep her.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

The timing of Aria T'Loak's transmission to the Citadel Council was not precisely impeccable, but the sheer urgency of the call immediately prompted a hasty retrieval of all three councilors from whatever business they were currently attending to and their deliverance to a comm room where they answered the transmission. Unfortunately, said retrieval consumed approximately fifteen minutes, leaving their Omegan correspondent to ferment in her own mounting displeasure until she was finally granted an audience.

The assembled Council, perturbed and ignorant of what tragedy could warrant pulling them out of their important daily agendas, were only further bewildered when the hologram of Spectre Lerath appeared alongside Aria T'Loak when they accessed the communication console. It was startling and terribly outlandish to see their agent standing at attention, arms neatly folded behind his back, with Omega's most powerful figure contemptuously seated in an armchair beside him. The peculiar duo coerced a collective pause from the Council. A moment of considerable disorientation. The Council had always habitually and consistently issued an irrefutable command to all Spectres working within Aria T'Loak's sphere of influence—or while _anywhere_ in the Terminus Systems for that matter—to avoid Aria and any other prominent entities at all costs lest a dispute or even war arose as a consequence of excess interference; and to witness this unprecedented sight drew their attention like blood from a wound.

And so the Council's initial, private reaction was one of consummate dismay. Had Lerath violated that golden rule? Had Aria T'Loak captured Lerath after finding him illicitly pilfering around in her syndicate? If that was the case… Spectre Lerath was the responsibility of the Council, and they would have to reassure Aria that his actions were not of their volition, and that the Council wished no harm unto her. But beyond merely clarifying their innocuous intentions, a sincere apology would be required if Lerath had caused Aria notable trouble. And _none_ of them were particularly pleased by the notion of beseeching forgiveness from a Terminus Space crime lord, tentative ally or not. A great deal of dignity and face was suddenly at stake, putting them all on anxious edge.

Councilor Tevos shifted her gaze a tad and caught Forlan's furtive glance sent in her direction; an expression wordlessly informing her that since Lerath had been deployed on her orders, she was designated to carry most of the incident's repercussions as well as the duty of making amends with Aria if necessary. It wasn't an antagonizing glance, however. Rather, Councilor Forlan appeared somewhat reluctant, as if he were only sending her those grim thoughts purely out of obligation—a solemn reminder that the Council comprised three independent people, each held to his or her own government's troubles and relations. While the Council was one voice upon concluding their deliberations, that united product contained three separate sources of input. There were many times when their words could not intermingle, times when each councilor had to address an issue on their own, especially in matters pertaining to their specific peoples. And this circumstance concerned the frail armistice contrived between Omega and Asari High Command, which sharply increased the likelihood of Councilor Tevos and Aria T'Loak solely having the floor by the conclusion of the conversation.

After the Council gave their standard greetings, to which Aria responded with a persistent frown and silence, the latter spoke slowly and austerely, choosing her words carefully as the projection of her body lightly and unsettlingly shimmered. _"Today,"_ Aria began, looking at them all in turn, _"I was forced to deal with a rather unfortunate situation. A Spectre of yours attempted to kill me."_

The Council's horrified eyes instantly darted to Lerath, who reacted to the fearful, accusing gazes with a shift in his foot placement, unsure of how to defend himself against the abrupt and unanticipated vilification.

To quell the developing trouble she had ignited—inadvertently, or perhaps deliberately to spitefully torture her correspondents and draw sick amusement from their troubled reactions in compensation for her grievances—Aria clarified, _"It was an asari Spectre named Neora. I'll give you the executive summary: somehow, she managed to get into one of my private cabs, and while I was aboard she tried to assassinate me. Needless to say she failed and I killed her."_

The three councilors were at a loss for words. Tevos, particularly, was the very most confused and concerned. "She's… _dead?_ " Tevos inquired after gathering her disarrayed thoughts. "She tried to kill you?"

The very idea was preternatural to the highest degree. Neora had been an excellent Spectre, always closely following protocols and faithfully returning from every mission to present the Council with the product of her best efforts. And always so optimistic, even when some condition or component of her task had failed. For her to be dead was already in itself a shock, but for her to have committed such an atrocity against Aria, the Council, and the Citadel containing the people whom she had often professed her great love for, was spectacularly unbelievable.

" _That's correct,"_ Aria replied to the Council's shared dismay. Her position in her chair was rigid with suppressed anger. She was obviously extremely upset with the situation as well, but from a much, much different perspective.

After an uncomfortable moment of silence passed spent inside their troubled thoughts, the turian councilor revived their conference. "Spectre Lerath, can you attest to this account?" Estulius asked the statuesque salarian.

He gave a single cheerless nod, but hesitated. _"I can, but only partially. Neora is in fact dead. I can confirm that. I... at least I_ believe _I can confirm that. But I was not a witness to the events that happened inside the cab. I can say nothing about that."_

The turian councilor thoughtfully grumbled, glancing over at his fellow councilors to assess their reflected dubious expressions. "This... This is quite an incident we have on our hands. And I fear its severity is rapidly escalating by the second. But certainly Spectre Neora could not have even _dreamed_ of trying to take your life. The Council thoroughly lectures our agents on the importance of staying uninvolved in Terminus affairs, especially when regarding your organization. Our agents are only sent there on missions to collect information on specific events or groups who pose as immediate threats to Council space. You are _not_ on that list, we assure you. I can't fathom any of us harboring such a heinous motive to deal violence against you." As he finished his statement, his eyes drifted to Tevos, seeking her input and support.

Tevos made to subsidize Estulius's assurance with her own confirmation and recital of Council mandate, but as she parted her lips to begin, she found an entirely new string of words being pulled from her conscience and planted on her tongue. Her initial pause steadily morphed into a doubtful expression, and she averted her green eyes from Aria's to instead find those of her Spectre's—anxious rings rimming large, dark, ovular pupils. "Lerath," she gently captured his attention, "You said that you _believe_ you are able to confirm Neora's death. What did you mean by that?"

Lerath tilted his chin upward ever so slightly. He was evidently distressed by the answer he was about to give the asari councilor, and they could not fathom why until he had sewn together his acceptably cogent reply. _"When I came upon the scene, you see, Aria T'Loak was standing over Spectre Neora._ _And Neora's body… was massively damaged. Blackened by a blast originating in the cab; limbs were mangled, missing, and her face… It didn't constitute much of a face anymore."_ He suffered another pause, keeping his expression void of any superfluous emotion generated by his recollection of the horrific death of a former colleague and coworker. _"The degree of trauma was easily beyond the threshold of what any asari could hope to endure and survive. I only said I_ believed _she was dead because after a brief moment of speaking with Aria T'Loak, during which our eyes were no longer on the body… it had… lost itself over the edge of the street-tier we were standing on. And I reasoned that if Neora was still capable of movement after what her body had been through, who's to say that she's incapable of surviving a fall of inestimable distance?"_

"Lost itself?" Councilor Forlan repeated with disdain. "What do you mean by _lost_ itself? Someone threw her over the edge of the street, and you didn't stop them?"

" _Nothing of the sort happened, Councilor_ ," said Lerath. _"Neora dragged herself over the edge without any interference. Perhaps she truly was still alive, and was in such agony as to take measures to… end it."_ As he finished, his tone became quite grim.

"So was she dead or not?" Esutlius asked, his voice growing a hint of impatience. "Before you 'lost' her, didn't anyone check her vital signs?"

" _No,"_ Aria stepped back into the conference before the Spectre could respond. _"I was too preoccupied with learning that a_ Council Spectre _was pulling guns on me and wiring my cabs with explosives. But take my word on this—I know death when I see it, and when I cause it, I make sure I'm thorough. After she tried to shoot me in the cab, I snapped her neck hard enough to kill her instantly. And after I escaped the cab and recovered what was left of her body, her face was thoroughly distorted and I could see the blackened contours of her skull. If she hadn't been burned to the lungs or elsewhere, the explosion's impact had more than enough force to cause fatal hemorrhaging, ruptures, and the sort."_

"So what exactly are we expected to believe here?" the turian councilor incredulously asked while Tevos steadily paled a few shades from hearing the gruesome account, and Forlan's brow lowered in visible execration. "That a Spectre who has performed excellent work over the course of several decades without a single blemish in her modes of conduct suddenly and inexplicably went rogue, tried to assassinate the most influential figure in the Terminus Systems, and then continued to move about after her own death?" He scoffed. "Do you realize how ostentatious your story is? We cannot give this any credibility, I'm afraid. Even with a Spectre as a _partial_ witness, we could never accept your claim without mountainous physical evidence."

Throughout the duration of Estulius's expressed rejection, Aria had turned her eyes onto Tevos, who returned the gaze with an implicit understanding of their suspended silence and the meaning it bore. The nature of the examined incident was terribly familiar, and the two continued to mutually hold the stare, communicating their suspicions without a single exchanged word, even after the turian councilor had finished.

"These events, as described by both Aria T'Loak and Spectre Lerath," Tevos said, still looking at Aria, "are magnificently… _coincidental_ if they are unrelated to a previous account of similar happenings. If all acquired information is _truthful_ , that is."

Aria subtly began to glare at the asari councilor's persisting doubt, resenting her refusal to promote her word as reliable.

"A previous account?" asked Forlan. "What, you mean something similar has happened before? When; where? And why were we not informed?"

" _What an excellent question,"_ Aria poisonously remarked, canting her head at Tevos while they all began abiding her answer.

"Oh, you expected me to relay to the other councilors an account of intelligence highly suspect of being deficient in factuality?" Tevos gracefully defended herself, never taking her eyes away from Aria's. She did not receive her antagonism well. After all the support and civil words Tevos had generously offered her over the previous weeks, Aria still insisted on changing her allegiance with as much volatility as the weather. "I don't think I would be so careless and amateurishly undiscriminating to do such a thing. However, the situation has now evolved to a point where my disclosure has become relevant and necessary. Less than a week ago Aria divulged me in a few details about one of the murders in her administration—the case of the batarian pirate Olat Dar'nerah, who was witnessed making his way through the nightclub Afterlife while he was already presumably dead. Apparently, he climbed onto an ornamental sculpture, became still, and when an employee checked on him, the man was found to be dead with… without his eyes," Tevos finished with a small hitch of distaste. "It seems this phenomenon has taken Neora as well. Therefore these events, if true, are undeniably connected in some way."

The other two councilors, as predicted, reacted poorly to the unsubstantiated testimony.

"Well I'm glad you shared this with us now," Estulius grumbled, "but we still can't invest in it."

"So what do you suppose we do about this?" Forlan asked while looking over at the turian councilor. "We have no body, no witnesses to the actual attack and killing aside from Aria T'Loak herself, and most of all…" He paused, glancing at both of his fellow councilors in thought before looking at Aria. "I think the Council needs a few moments to deliberate in private. Can we all agree on a brief recess of a few minutes?"

Aria made no sign of consent at first. Only after Tevos and Estulius had expressed their agreement did she give the smallest of reluctant, displeased nods, likely in the support of any new strategy that would yield some progress instead of uselessly prattling on as they were doing at the moment.

The Council put the transmission on hold, stepped away from the console, and reorganized themselves into a small circle between the cold gray walls of the comm room. Arms were folded in budding contempt, whether held in front of their torsos in shameless conveyance of their collective mood, or kept behind their backs with intended but ineffective secrecy.

"We don't have a clear motive," Forlan said, evidently continuing where his last statement had trailed off. "If Aria T'Loak did in fact murder Spectre Neora, that is. I can't fathom a reason why she would dare to provoke hostility between the Citadel and Omega. And the fact that she would readily and openly confess to a disastrous murder absolutely confounds me."

Estulius gave a solemn nod. "Well, motive aside, we seem to have few options at this point. We don't have evidence to say that T'Loak killed our Spectre unprovoked, and she does not have the evidence to say that the Council ordered an attack. I think our efforts should be focused on discovering what happened, why our Spectre is dead, and addressing whatever third-party entity brought this about, if one exists. Might you have anything to add, Councilor Tevos?"

"I have countless hypotheses," Tevos said. "But I do agree with both of you. Aria gains extremely little by antagonizing us, especially in her state of affairs. The very last thing she needs is to create another enemy for herself. As for the high probability of a third party being responsible for Spectre Neora's demise, the only way to find out who they are, I believe, is listening to and considering Aria's claims. I do not mean we necessarily have to subscribe to them as absolutely truthful, but a chance is always present that she would be willing to send us whatever data she's gathered on that aforementioned event—the one involving Olat Dar'nerah—and we could operate from that starting point. Autopsy records, other recorded deaths in her administration, and what information her pursuit of her aggressors up to the present has yielded."

"But what if her records have been tampered with or contrived altogether to serve another purpose?" Forlan inquired. "As you said before, what Aria T'Loak told you about this Olat Dar'nerah could not be taken seriously because you had no way of knowing whether or not the story was true. Can we afford her that level of credence?"

She hesitated for a long span of time as the other councilors watched her, patiently anticipating whatever resolution she could offer them. Unbeknownst to them, Tevos's thoughts had wandered to more domestic potential culprits, and although the name of the entity continuously resurfacing in her mind brought her great distress, she could not afford to ignore her own fears. It was, unfortunately, possible for Asari High Command to have been involved in the incident. She didn't have the faintest clue how they would've manipulated the loyal Spectre Neora into carrying out such a deed before willingly walking into her subsequent death and chilling aftermath, but Neora's betrayal in the very first place was no more outlandish than that scenario.

_Poor, poor girl,_ Tevos mournfully turned her thoughts to Neora. _I do not think you a villain. I do not think you would betray us so. Your memory deserves a bit of mercy and benefit of the doubt in light of the horrors and coercion you might have endured._

Setting her personal reflexes aside, Tevos returned to her diplomatic strategizing. Strange circumstances allowed for the existence of strange suspects, and Asari High Command was not exempt from her list. They were publicly perceived as a league of guardians; big-minded, noble matriarchs with the single agenda of focusing their efforts on the security of the asari people. But there were many times when they played quite the questionable game in order to mold the galaxy in their favor from where they lingered poised in the shadows of Thessia, quietly and discreetly sending out agents, taking lives, and planting people and ships in regions where they swayed local affairs. But still… the phenomenon of movement after death remained unexplained. What purpose could they have in generating that terror? There was little if any utility to be found in spending large sums of money on research and resources used to reanimate corpses just to frighten Aria through what was indisputably an act of terrorism—a message sent to Aria and her administration (as well as the entirety of Omega, for that matter). They were assertions of dominance in the arenas of intelligence, capability, and power, all done from afar through the proxies of nightmarish, grisly scenes, and they were specifically manufactured for Aria's eyes and Omega's imagination. To make the Queen tremble and falter while Omega shuddered in disbelief and confusion. To inspire doubt and panic.

Whether it was working or not wasn't clear to Tevos, however, for she knew Aria to be as impervious to the hideous and gruesome as a block of concrete. If anything, those horrors were only irritating her. But either way, and regardless of who Aria's enemy was, it was in the Council's utmost interest to preserve a healthy peace between Omega and their territories, and Aria stood resolutely at the junction of their relations. The lone envoy was more representational of Omega's (and therefore likely the rest of the Terminus Systems') interests than any other living person, and to keep her—someone actually cooperative with the Council to an extent—breathing and in power was imperative.

Tevos regarded the rest of Council again at length. "I propose that you let me speak to Aria T'Loak in private. At the very least her accounts deserve an audience, as do my own concerns," she said. In response to their questioning looks, she added, "There are… a few matters of secrecy to the asari people that she is aware of, and I find these matters to be extremely relevant at this time. I would normally advocate your inclusion, but deciding such things is outside my prerogative."

Estulius and Forlan exchanged a glance as well as their gradual acquiescence to Tevos's proposal. Through the brief eye contact, it was mutually and silently established that they both still found Tevos to be the most appropriate negotiator and political correspondent to Aria. After all, not only was Tevos the asari councilor who helped ratify the peace treaty between Aria T'Loak and the Asari Republics, consequentially making her a mutual 'ally' of the Citadel (for the perpetual lack of a better term), but over the years Councilor Tevos and Aria T'Loak had developed an ambassadorial relationship with one another, and thus far, very few significant mishaps had been recorded. The turian and salarian councilors had abundant faith in her for those reasons alone. And so that suggestion, that essential offer to relieve her fellow councilors from exhausting, stressful talks with Aria translated into the statement of: _I have dealt with her before and I can deal with her again._

Before they left the asari councilor, however, Estulius expressed a lingering concern, "How can we publicly address this? We're going to need an acceptable cover-up story. People know who Neora is and her disappearance will rouse questions and outrage if we stay silent. But if we're _too_ transparent, it will either vilify Aria T'Loak as a 'Spectre-killer' and convince people that Omega is an enemy, or it will cause panic and distrust over the prospect of Spectres going rogue and… becoming _ghosts_. Both outcomes will cause us grave injury."

"After I speak to Aria I will contact you both," replied Tevos, "and after updating you on the results of our conversation we can schedule a meeting with the Council's press secretary and prepare a statement. I suppose we'll also have to prepare something for Neora's surviving relatives—it'll likely involve telling them that her death is being investigated. Vagueness will likely be abused over the next week, I fear. Until we have a better grasp of the situation, I'd label this incident as being highly confidential and it should not be discussed with anyone lacking appropriate levels of clearance. I assume we can agree on that?"

They gave their approval and departed from the comm room, leaving Tevos alone in what the other councilors perceived as a cage with a dangerous creature held within; the wild, crowned beast of Omega, against which Tevos would pit her reason and mild temperament, and emerge with resolution in hand while miraculously bearing no marks from teeth or claws.

When she resumed their transmission, bringing forth the images of Aria and Spectre Lerath into the room once again, she promptly received a suspicious look from Aria, accompanied with a dry question, _"Where's the rest of your clique?"_

"You and I need to talk," Tevos flatly answered before turning her eyes onto Lerath. "Spectre Lerath, we're going to need our privacy for the remainder of our discussion. I urge you to return to the Citadel as soon as possible."

" _Yes ma'am,"_ he said. _"I'll arrange for my departure immediately."_

The image of Lerath vanished. Only Tevos and Aria remained, heads held at subtle, proud tilts and postures filled to the brims with professional, dignified confidence.

To break the thin air of the conversational climate, Tevos said to Aria, "I expect my Spectre back within twenty hours."

She tilted her head, feigning amusement, but that expression belied the reality of her offense. _"Don't worry. I'll spare this one."_

Tevos found no humor in Aria's tasteless reassurance. But instead of allowing cold silence to manifest between them anew, she went ahead and entered their revived discussion with an honest reassurance of her own, "I explicitly forbade Neora from going anywhere near you."

But to the councilor's dismay, her statement seemed to have the opposite effect she originally intended for it. Aria's features were gradually darkening into suspicion, sowing the first seeds of hostility that were destined to erupt into a terrible overgrowth of rage if Tevos failed to tame it in the near future. Of course, she understood the origins of Aria's anger. It was perfectly reasonable for Aria to have been upset at the occurrence of a Spectre—an agent belonging to a government supposedly at peace with Omega—repurposed as a weapon to be used against her. But what was _not_ reasonable was the rashness of Aria's assumptions. Surely she didn't seriously believe that Tevos could have sent Neora after her, did she?

"Aria," Tevos began again, adopting a quieter, gentler tone, "I am not presently challenging your or Lerath's claim that Neora was involved in this, nor am I totally rejecting the idea that she attacked you."

" _You seemed pretty dismissive of it while in the presence of the other councilors,"_ Aria pointed out. _"Not that it came as a surprise to me. Wouldn't want to embarrass ourselves now, would we? To even consider trusting my word is indicative of either mental illness or treason, isn't it?"_

"I refuse to be impulsive," Tevos said, growing rigid. "How could you expect me to defend your claims without incredible caution? The story you've given us is outrageous at best, and I will have you understand that I am here to speak to you in private because I _do_ give your claim some credence and am willing to hear it while free from potentially damaging my own reputation amongst my associates."

" _I should have never agreed to allow your Spectres to prowl my territories,"_ Aria icily said while seeming to disregard Tevos's previous statement, immersed in her own bitter cognitions. _"I had a gut feeling against it. Even though they promised to stay out of my sight and keep away from my syndicate, I knew trouble would come from it down the road. I don't want them anywhere near Omega anymore, do you understand me? They are hereby banned from my station and if I ever see one again I will have them shot on sight."_

Tevos was initially surprised at the threat, but her shock quickly transmuted into offense. She was about to respond to the attack by heavily criticizing Aria's foolish choice to risk antagonizing a galactic superpower, but before the words could leave her lips, her close scrutiny of Aria's expression revealed to her a superimposed layer of thought. Aria was enraged at having her leniency with the Council turned against her, but there was something else deeply embedded in that ire; a defensive instinct of survival, a fight-or-flight response to the ambiguity of the situation she was finding herself within.

All too suddenly, the Council's trustworthiness was being put on trial, and a verdict had not yet been reached. And so, in the potency of a well-measured but paradoxically panicked reflex, Aria was beginning to destroy all the avenues through which the Council could cause her any further harm if they were indeed her enemy. The thick, surrounding miasma of uncertainty was poisoning her.

"So that's your infallible solution?" Tevos asked her, moderating her tone while still trying to make Aria see reason. "To shut yourself off from all who may be of use to you solely because they _might_ pose legitimate threats?"

Aria said nothing, more or less resulting in the conveyance of confirmation.

"So you plan on doing precisely what we think your enemy is trying to make you do?" Tevos continued. "Severing alliances until you've rendered yourself isolated in sheer paranoia—vulnerable, angry, and hysterically accusing everyone near you of dissent and driving them away and against you?"

_"They're not going anywhere,"_ Aria growled. _"I'm only making sure I take the most logical, beneficial course of action. And right now, risking another encounter with a well-trained, well-armed and well-learned Spectre will not advance my ambitions or health. I'm not cutting myself off from you. I want a temporary suspension from you. Until I'm certain that the Council isn't hostile to me, I want you nowhere near Omega while I resolve these issues on my own. There is much to do and I will not waste any of my efforts trying to ascertain whether the agents skulking around Sahrabarik are planning to attack me."_

"And so far, what have you accomplished on your own?" the councilor inquired. "Have you discovered anything about your enemy, aside from the fact that they hate you and prefer to remain unnamed? Or have you been too preoccupied with annexing more territory, trying to unite a station currently in turmoil as it cracks behind you, engendering and leaking… new _factions_ who resent the forceful change you bring? How long do you plan on gambling so recklessly like this, brushing off one assassination attempt after another? At some point, you will encounter an attempt that you will fail to evade. It's only a matter of time until then. Please do enlighten me—for how long do you plan on allowing things to persist as they are?"

Aria rose from her seat, and despite her presence in the comm room only being a flickering body of light, the intimidating qualities of her movements were as apparent as Tevos vividly remembered from years previously. The councilor made no sign of fear, however, and remained stationary as Aria began to speak.

_"Quite a while, actually,"_ she sneered. _"Throughout my life I've dealt with people trying to kill me and this is no different. I can do this for years to come, Councilor._ _You need to get it through your skull that I am a warlord; by definition a wager of war, and war always comes back to find me. This is what I do and you have no say in it whatsoever, so don't even try to advise me in a field which you know nothing about. Don't involve yourself in my business at all."_

"Only days ago you voluntarily decided to involve me," Tevos calmly pointed out, referring to the fact that Aria had allowed her access to sensitive information such as her illness and the assassinations plaguing her organization. "I don't think it was unreasonable to interpret it as an invitation to have a say in 'your business'."

With a deep frown appearing on her lips, Aria temporarily looked away and glared at something in the room she stood within many light-years away, folding her arms across her chest. _"Things change."_

Tevos slowly and inaudibly exhaled as she suddenly began to feel enervated, burdened, and surprisingly, compassionate. It was generated from the familiarity of her situation; the staunch Aria T'Loak bringing back memories of similar dilemmas they remarkably persevered through and overcame despite their drastic personal differences.

It was equally as strange as well, how Tevos had so easily set aside her embarrassment regarding their exchange from the previous night to make way for more important things to occupy her conscience, as if the urgency of their diplomatic relationship had instantaneously overridden their confused and petty flirtations with delving back into what Tevos once vowed to never consider again, on instinct, on the powerful premise of duty.

That was the general trend these days, the councilor recognized. Swift and sometimes violent oscillations between the professionalism and formality of an ambassadorial connection, and the almost-masochistic excitement that came with being the instigators and sole archivists of one of the most scandalous relations produced by history. Those two faces of their abnormal relationship should not have been able to peacefully coexist, Tevos believed, and when they tried, the expected result would have been a dangerous concoction; a volatile, confused mixture at constant war, desperately trying to make sense of itself or invent a method through which the halves might be spliced together. And they could be—and they were gradually accomplishing just that in spite of the councilor's dubiousness and resistance.

But then what, Tevos asked herself? Allow their inclinations to roam freely? A relationship of diplomacy tainted by _personal_ investments, set loose upon Citadel politics?

Tevos drew in a small breath of resolve. "Aria, I want to help you," she said, solemnly accepting her own truthfulness, though once again tragically uncertain of whether the statement originated in personal or diplomatic concerns for the other asari. "I _can_ help you. You once said and demonstrated that you are not incapable of collaboration when you find it profitable. And in this case, we can _both_ profit from maintaining contact. Just as you don't want to lose Omega to someone else, the Citadel doesn't want to lose you either. Wars are tragic and expensive, Aria. We'd vastly prefer it if you stayed in power and helped continue preventing the skirmishes that once frequently punctuated our history."

Aria found her eyes again; irate and unconvinced. _"Oh yeah? And what then? I let your Spectres back onto Omega, give you access to my caches of invaluable information, start signing more agreements and treaties… Tell me, Councilor, what then? What becomes of Omega?_ _It becomes another fucking slave to the Citadel, infected by your bureaucratic parasites and stripped of all the freedoms I vowed to protect? Fuck you. Fuck all of you. Omega isn't your colonial investment and I'd rather die tomorrow and hand over my station to the assholes trying to kill me than let the Council or Asari High Command infest it."_

In light of a certain name, Tevos allowed the nasty verbal assault to glide over her despite her strong instincts to admonish Aria for cursing at her. That woman was almost _incomprehensible_ sometimes, always reacting to her pledges of aid with rudeness or accusations. However, Tevos ultimately decided to focus on a point of much greater importance. "Asari High Command?" she cautiously repeated, hollowed out by alertness and worry.

" _Don't play dumb,"_ Aria shook her head in disapproval. _"You know what they're up to._ _Just this morning they had the nerve to request putting some of their people in my organization to help out, but I know what they ultimately plan for. They want to start integrating themselves into my networks and relay intel back to their superiors. I politely refused. At least they had the decency to actually ask before throwing their spies at me."_

"So you forbade them from placing any of their agents on Omega?" Tevos prodded further to investigate. "And they complied?"

" _They've given their word, but I don't trust it. I'm going to keep a lookout for any suspicious arrivals."_

Tevos fell silent, fixated on Aria's body of photons as their conversation was frozen by their wordless communication—just subtle movements of eyes and heads held at tiny, insinuating cants. She watched Aria's line of sight minutely flit about her face, analyzing her.

The reality of what had happened slowly became clear to the councilor. On one front, Tevos had been informed that Asari High Command were planning the awakening of the sleeper agents if Aria should meet her doom, and on the other front, they were requesting that Aria allow them to post agents on Omega _when they were already there_. It was, by all means, a way of testing Aria's awareness of them, to better assess their level of secrecy in order to predict their effectiveness when… _what?_ For _what_ , Tevos wondered? If Aria fell from power, her prior awareness of the agents would be inconsequential. So whatever Asari High Command was preparing for involved Aria in some way—but in _what_ way? To dare hastening Aria's demise, or to protect her from the shadows? Neither would please the crime lord in question, of course. And what of the _timing_ of their offer to Aria, Tevos pondered? The morning of another assassination attempt which curiously involved a Council Spectre? She began to feel unwell and uneasy—the feeling only doubling when she recalled that she could say nothing to Aria in this setting, not when their discussion's secrecy could potentially be compromised.

"And you haven't encountered any?" Tevos resumed. "Agents from Asari High Command, that is?"

" _No,"_ Aria replied after a short pause. _"Not yet."_ She gazed back at Tevos, keeping her under that same intense scrutiny as she tried to make sense of her strange behavior.

"Aria… I think you should to come to the Citadel to continue sorting this all out. As Councilor Estulius said, we have quite an incident on our hands."

Aria scoffed at the proposal. _"You want me to come to the Citadel? You want me to abandon Omega at a time like this to go play politician with you? Don't make me laugh. I don't have time for that and I've already made it quite clear that I will not be welcoming any 'help' you intend to offer. I alone am very capable of defending myself and my interests, Councilor."_

"Of course, you're free to do that as you please," Tevos swiftly said, racing against losing Aria to her crystallizing incentives. "But would it not benefit you to have additional support if you should need it?" Tevos asked her, desperately trying to convey the severity of her request only through the insisting expression in her eyes.

Aria was quiet.

"Aria, please," she persisted. "Come to the Citadel."

The crime lord did not answer. She was thinking while still staring at the councilor, picking up fleeting pieces of something much larger than an imploring gaze; bits of grave importance and urgency.

"Will you do this for me?" Tevos asked.

The question, which sounded like a request for a very personal favor, perplexed Aria. No longer had the councilor's words been fashioned in the style of formal diplomacy, but in a much more intimate and committing one. She had something that _needed_ to be said, but it was something she could not say presently. Aria calculated, weighing her options. Eventually she developed profound interest in what Tevos had to tell her, in the councilor's successful persuasion without having to reveal copious detail, and in that the request was presented so informally yet without losing its significance.

_"I'll consider it,"_ Aria finally replied, her voice sounding mildly absent as she eyed Tevos with effaced suspicion and intrigue. _"I'll get back to you in a few hours with my answer."_

Tevos held her breath as she gave a small but grateful nod, fearing that the smallest sigh of relief would make Aria aware of the unease leading up to her reply. When neither said anything more, Aria terminated the call, leaving Tevos alone to her thoughts in the comm room, hands still folded neatly and pensively behind her back. Although Aria had given her an unclear, undecided answer for the moment, the councilor easily read into that guarded language. Aria had essentially said _yes_ in a dialect exclusively spoken by her, and years spent communicating with her had immersed Tevos in enough of its rhetoric for her to have achieved a functional degree of fluency.

_And she has learned to speak my dialect as well, it seems_ , Tevos mused to herself as she faced the room's door, preparing to depart. She recalled the light of understanding developing in Aria's eyes, breaking through their barriers of ice and universal distrust.

But that victory, that successful persuasion, had not come without cost. Oh, how Aria had cursed at her and initially stepped on her explanations and offers as if only in spite—and how Tevos had allowed her to! An abrupt surge of indignity flooded the councilor. But as always, she reacted to the feeling by pausing to ask herself: _What did you expect?_

She strode through the opening doors and began making her way down a hall with the intention to contact the remainder of the Council within the next few minutes.

_Aria is a demanding person with a natural hatred for all that you are and all that you cannot or will not be to serve her interests. And yet, all the same... you come to her, and her to you, with the most sensitive information we can affordably disclose, all based in implicit trust disguised by tactic. I previously suspected that we would be suffering a severe lack of communication as the situation worsened, but that will not be the case. Not so long as I hold any degree of influence over her. And since I do, she truly does harbor a large amount of respect for me, even if it may not be as patent as I'd like it to be. She merely forgets that she respects me, I think. Or denies it out of a sense of duty to Omega's principles of anti-government._

A faint, harmless smile crossed her features.

_So curious that you choose to cross me, only to accept my offered hand in aid a moment later._

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Following the asari councilor's rendezvous with the two other members of their powerful trio, they entered a discussion regarding Aria's apparent willingness to collaborate with the Citadel in order to locate and bring her enemy to cessation. Previously, the notion of aiding Aria was only noncommittally entertained as a possible route to take in order to keep Omega and its surrounding Terminus allies in check. But now, the death of a Spectre on their hands as a product of the turmoil Aria had attracted in recent days pulled the Council into the tempestuous ordeal unexpectedly and violently. They were obligated to respond in _some_ manner. How much they were to respond was still up for debate, however.

It was agreed upon amongst the Council that Aria would be welcomed onto the Citadel for a day in the event that she accepted Tevos's offer. It was also recognized that Aria might request an exclusive audience with the asari councilor due to the confidentiality of some material currently in play, and the salarian and turian councilors generously gave Tevos their faith and confidence to deal with the situation with enough tact and discretion to compensate their absence. Shortly after, an inclusion of the Council's press secretary in the discussion yielded a composed statement addressing Spectre Neora's death to be delivered within the week, first to her surviving family members, and then to be given to public inquiry if or when it came.

The grim statement entailed much vagueness, as they had predicted: Neora had vanished somewhere in the Terminus Systems, they would say, as no body had been recovered and communications were completely lost. Death was unconfirmed, and an investigation was underway. The statement was not as deceptive as they had anticipated, fortunately. After all, the nature and circumstances of Neora's supposed death were in reality shrouded in questions and unknowns. A detailed statement could not be released even if they wanted to prepare one.

After sacrificing a few hours of the work day to that end, Tevos was finally able to return to her office where she contacted Irissa with the intention of resuming their conversation from earlier that morning. Instead of inviting her friend to her office, Tevos decided on an audio call while she hastily turned half of her attention to some work she had originally planned to complete at her leisure until she was interrupted by the pressing incident that had stolen the day. When confronted with Irissa's question of what had occupied so much of Tevos's time and effort, the councilor replied gravely and ambiguously, "We are becoming... pulled into the events currently gripping Omega."

_"Really?"_ Irissa's voice originated from her omni-tool. She sounded a tad anxious. _"I don't suppose our 'friend' is involved?"_

"Oh no, not at all," Tevos facetiously hummed while setting down a datapad to lift another.

_"I thought as much. Well, what do we have? What gets us officially tangled up with her sort, hmm?"_

"I can only tell you a little more than what we will be telling everyone else. Spectre Neora is thought to have died on Omega, based on the testimony of Spectre Lerath coupled by the complete loss of contact with her. At whose hands is undetermined, and—"

_"—and Aria T'Loak is our prime suspect,"_ Irissa sighed as she finished the statement for Tevos. _"I wouldn't be surprised if she's culpable. Neora probably stood in her path a moment too long and the brute strangled the poor girl. I should know. I haven't forgotten Thessia and neither have all the other victims of the unnecessary violence she inflicted that day. People like Aria T'Loak think they can just run everyone over without any repercussion. It's about time she suffered for her merciless bullying. I don't mean to have her removed from Omega's leadership, as you've already stressed the importance of keeping her, but if she's done something as awful as this I don't think I'd ever be able to forgive her. Poor Neora! You were very fond of her, weren't you?"_

"I was," Tevos quietly replied, pausing from her work to reflect on the situation. She had suppressed the majority of her personal reaction to news out of necessity, acknowledging the great need to approach the matter with a clear mind free of jaundice or even vengeance in order to deal proper justice to both Neora and her possible murderer. But now that she was left to her resurfacing grievances, Tevos found herself steadily growing crestfallen. She privately mourned her agent. "I was very fond of her, yes," she said again. "Neora was an excellent Spectre, and even when the missions we assigned her failed, I confess that I could never bring myself to be disappointed in her. She brought such endless... _hope_ with her. She would react marvelously to misfortune; laughing at obstacles and always vowing to find a way to overcome them. She loved her people and her job and she served them well. For a fate so hideous to befall her disturbs and saddens me, Irissa."

_"How will this be handled? Is there an ongoing investigation?"_

"Yes, technically," Tevos said, her attention beginning to drift away from her speech and to a high-priority message highlighted in her terminal's inbox. She accessed it and began to read its contents as Irissa spoke again.

_"Technically?"_

The councilor failed to respond. A single hand was held up, a few fingers pressed her lips as her green eyes glided over the lines of text composing the message she read. Emptiness was gathering in her stomach; a reflexive reaction to more unfortunate news.

_"Tevos? What do you mean by 'technically'?"_

"Hold on a moment," she said to Irissa. She was busy comprehending the message sent by the batarian ambassador. Apparently, his trip to Khar'shan had for the most part gone smoothly, unlike his meeting with the Hegemony leaders. When presented with the evidence of criminal activity on Camala, one of the four advisors to the Hegemony's ruling sovereign objected to the Council's— _Aria's_ —findings by exclaiming that batarian space was being actively spied upon, and their potential colonies surveyed without their notice.

Fortunately, agreements between the Batarian Hegemony and the Citadel Council permitted patrols to fare near and within batarian territory so long as they adhered to local law. That included subjection to laws revolving around claimed but unsettled worlds in their territories which explicitly forbade anyone to land upon places like Camala in order to preserve natural resources for the time of colonization, when economic growth would largely become dependent on said natural exotic riches until new cities and production industries bloomed. Violation of these laws was often punishable by enslavement or death, except when the offender was of conveniently high caste or from another species whose foreign affairs officials offered the Hegemony compensation in exchange for a pardon. And so, because the evidence had been gathered without landing upon Camala, the advisor's accusation, although emotionally provocative, was without weight as their laws interpreted it.

Another advisor had expressed an completely unconvinced reaction to the evidence. He declared it highly suspect of being fabricated to give the Council an excuse to and gather data and post military on their planets for strategic advantage, taking into account the shaky and sometimes hostile relationship between the Hegemony and the other Council races. And then yet another, albeit more reasonable advisor brought up the more productive suggestion of sending batarian forces alone to investigate the relayed coordinates, independent of all further Council intervention, for at the end of all things considered, _someone_ was trespassing on their worlds.

Throughout the deliberation, the sovereign of the Hegemony had said nothing while his advisors bickered amongst themselves, unable to agree upon a solution. A strong divide quickly grew between caution and denouncement of the Council's invasive actions, and the quarreling only ceased when the sovereign silenced them, and told the ambassador to inform the Council that the Hegemony would respond to the situation in their own way and in their own time—both of which would not be decided and rationed at the present moment.

The ambassador was sent back to the batarian embassy on the Citadel after that, and during his trip he relayed an official transcript of the discussion accompanied by a heavily-encrypted message containing his personal reactions, fears, and any other notable points he believed Tevos ought to be made aware of. The list contained suspicions about whether the Hegemony even _intended_ on deploying forces onto Camala, and if they did, how they would go about extracting the criminals and subsequently address the Council once the job was done. Tevos was quite pleased with the ambassador despite the outcome of his trip. The man was most definitely under the constant searchlight watch of his home government, and yet he still proved his dedication to the relationship between the Citadel and the Hegemony by sending her his opinions that would've normally been stifled by censorship or indictments of sedition if intercepted by Khar'shan officials.

The asari councilor reclined in her seat, a pair of thoughtful fingers still lightly pressed to her bottom lip. Judging by the look of things, the Hegemony would not be allowing Council-ordered forces to confront and apprehend the drug producers and smugglers. The situation, by law, was no longer in her hands, and the best the Council could do from this point on would be to focus their efforts on a domestic level by maintaining the increased monitoring on the traffic passing through the many relays of the Serpent Nebula, and to continue searcing for the dealers on the Citadel itself. Asari space would also have to remain exercising similar measures until further notice.

_"Your 'moment' has expired, Tevos. Illuminate me, if you would be so kind."_

She returned her attention to Irissa. "Forgive my silence. I have... received a message from the batarian ambassador. I shouldn't speak of it too much—forgive me for that as well."

_"I see. I understand, I won't ask about it. Now, where were we? You said something about Neora's disappearance being 'technically' investigated?"_

"We've run into a few obstacles," said Tevos. "Since it is thought that Neora died on Omega, we cannot conduct any sort of investigation without Aria's approval. Which she hasn't given yet." She folded her hands onto her desk, thinking to herself, _It seems that everyone is barring themselves from the Council today._ "Rather," Tevos began again, "earlier today she stated that Omega has closed its gates to Spectres entirely."

_"Well I suppose that might impede things a bit... How will you convince her to reconsider?"_

"As always, I plan to appeal to her business-inclined nature," the councilor replied, this time finding a faint smile upon her lips as she spoke. "I will broker a deal with her. My current strategy includes offering packages of intelligence relevant to her struggles on Omega in exchange for the allowance of a formal investigation. This is not just because I have received news of my Spectre's demise, no, it goes far beyond that. If Aria's enemy has begun specifically targeting Spectres, they have made themselves a threat to the Council. We will not allow our agents and resources to be used against us or our allies, and so it has become imperative that we involve ourselves in the same battle Aria is currently fighting. The current issue, it appears, is acquiring Aria's permission to accompany her in that endeavor."

_"Just keep us out of war, please,"_ Irissa said. _"I know that Aria T'Loak is just fighting some faction on Omega, but I think sending her any reinforcements won't sit well with the Council races. No one wants to waste their time on Omega. All they want is to enjoy this nice era of cease-fire you've given us, and nothing more in the way of relations."_

"Of course," Tevos agreed with her. "Her own people are going to have to carry the weight of their battles alone. As much as I'd prefer it that Aria defended her rule, I don't think I would ever consider giving her any of our blood. This isn't a war the people of Council space want a part of—this is a war of Omega's syndicates."

_"And Aria's friends in high places. You included. I respect your decision to get involved in this, and I wish you the very best, but I'm still compelled to ask you: are you sure this is the right course of action? This isn't even one of my attacks on Aria herself, more so... a question of whether or not we have any right to intervene... Oh, never mind it. It's an instinctual feeling and any instinct I have can't fight the fact that Aria T'Loak has maintained a fairly decent record of correspondence with the Citadel over the past decades. You're right in doing this, Tevos."_

"If you don't mind, I'd still like to hear the doubt you had. It may help me in some manner by presenting to me something I haven't considered."

Irissa gave a small sigh, gathering her thoughts. _"Well, I was just entertaining a concept regarding the succession of regimes on Omega. It's always engulfed by internal wars, this constant clambering and clawing for wealth, territory, power... And the strongest, smartest, nastiest warlord claims de facto leadership. Isn't our intervention—we, as a foreign, outside entity with our own set of interests—principally upsetting the natural dynamic of things?_ "

"Aria made the same point," Tevos remarked. "Not in the same words, but in the same spirit and to the same point. She does not openly want any help, and I think it may be because of this. I think that her pride is threatened by the prospect of receiving too much support from allies. It invalidates her, makes her appear as a faulty warlord who was unable to hold her ground on her own. She makes signs hinting that she is prepared to exploit all means necessary to win, but then she suffers an abrupt caprice and changes her mind as if conflicted between two different sides of 'power'; strength through force, and strategic cunning. Both, I believe, are essential in her case. It is her _pride_ , as I've said, that creates the unnecessary rift. She hides the conflict well but she needs to reconcile those feuding sides."

_"Your perception leads me to say that you spend far too much time speaking with her,"_ Irissa said with the slightest tinge of humor. _"From my vantage point, in all honesty, the woman terrifies me. She's a violent sociopath, a goddess-damned specimen of death incarnate without any knowledge of feeling, remorse, or an ounce of kindness. And you have reduced the iconic existence she's carefully forged over centuries into something very disturbing to her: a person. A horrible person, but a person."_

Tevos briefly smiled again. "A person whose help we're going to be needing soon. And vice versa." As the final portion of her statement left her mouth, Tevos returned her eyes to her terminal where another message appeared in her inbox along with a small blinking light to announce its unread status. She accessed it and read the contents sent by a certain correspondent with whom she would soon be meeting and collaborating with, as confirmed with the brief note enclosed in the message. "And," she said to Irissa, "a person who's going to be coming to the Citadel in two days' time."

_"...Seriously?"_ She sounded weary.

The councilor paused, rereading the message over while thinking to herself how strange and nearly surreal it was, to be informed that a controversial ghost from her past was going to appear before her again as flesh rather than a disembodied voice, a string of text, or an envoy of light projected from a communication console. But it wasn't so much of a matter of object permanence as it was an matter of the much more valuable empirical experience. "Yes," Tevos replied at length. "So you can safely anticipate the presence of additional C-Sec officers in the Embassies on that day. Forgive me yet again, Irissa, but I should give my full attention to my work now. I'll talk to you later."

_"Not a problem, Tevos. I'll leave you to fix the arrangements for our... guest..."_

With the call ended, Tevos read over Aria's message a third time, vastly pleased with her ability to put aside her pride for the sake of rationality. Aria was adaptable, reasonable, and by no means had she lost any legitimacy for recognizing a time when she needed to cooperate with the Council. Rather, it only reinforced her competency and her qualification as a capable leader.

_Well done_ , the councilor thought. _Not only are you conventionally strong, but you are also wise. And... I must confess that although I'm quite apprehensive about working with you again, I can't deny that our previous 'projects' were some of the most engaging moments of my career._


	10. Grand Plans

**PERSONS — "Aria T'Loak Spotted on Presidium"**

Earlier this morning, Omega representative Aria T'Loak was seen in the middle of an escort of personal bodyguards and C-Sec officers. They were spotted traveling from a transportation terminal and heading in the direction of the Embassies. The Terminus Space magnate has not been seen this side of the Attican Traverse in over half a century, which inspired a few questions directed at her by an interviewer who managed to catch up to the miniature parade before it disappeared into the offices of Council space's elected representatives.

When asked what her business on the Citadel consisted of, Aria T'Loak paused to answer, "I am here to accept the Council's appeasement of four hundred indentured servants to be transferred into my custody."

The interviewer made a dubious comment regarding the illegal nature of indentured servitude in Council space, followed up by another question addressing the reason for appeasement in the first place, T'Loak replied, "Over the last month I have suffered under the presupposition that I am responsible for smuggling Alunigen B2 into Council space and have consequently violated treaty. This has done irreparable damages to my pristine reputation and therefore qualifies as libel."

A brief call to the Council's press secretary inquiring about Aria T'Loak's presence on the Citadel and the legitimacy of her given reasons yielded the answer of, "I see Aria T'Loak has wasted no time in taking advantage of her diplomatic immunity to spread her _hilarious_ jests. I stress that everyone seeking her comment must take into consideration that she is under no official oath of veracity and may be tempted to answer your inquiries with falsehoods and caricatures. The councilors are presently meeting with Aria T'Loak to settle a minor dispute over Spectre presence in the Terminus Systems, which is expected to be resolved within the work day."

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Just as Councilor Tevos remembered, whenever Aria came to the Embassies everything would grow unnervingly quiet, save for the chorus of terminal chimes notifying their owners of temporarily heightened security measures.

She was standing beside the desk in her office after being alerted of her guest's arrival, unable to keep her attention focused on any other point of interest over the next few minutes spent waiting. The anticipatory tension in her chest had the rest of her body alert and restless, as if experiencing an extrasensory premonition of something intangible, yet astoundingly heavy, suspended right overhead and threatening to descend upon her at any moment. The feeling was suffocating, like a thick vapor of unease weighing the air and continuously drawing into her lungs.

_I have felt this before_ , she recognized. _The very same... unrest. From long ago._

The gentle comforting warmth offered by the light entering the room and painting the councilor's back was but the Presidium's weak reassurance that all was well on the Citadel, and would continue to faithfully persist in that manner throughout the remainder of the day. Ordinarily, Tevos would have accepted the familiar blue pseudo-skies as adequate cause to return to business without unnecessarily amplifying her concerns, but today, the atmosphere's attempts to soothe her seemed terribly weak in comparison to what storm system it tried to remedy. There was _great_ cause for worry. There was great cause for concern as there was for excitement. The trouble was in the blend; a gale of warm and cold conceptions twisting and tangling her nerves into knots.

Whenever Aria came to the Embassies, Tevos thought again, its halls emptied, and whoever Aria encountered along the way addressed her with forced hospitality, because the Citadel was not friends with Omega. They were two enemies who had temporarily lain down their weapons at the behest of their leaders, whose lives were but singular, ephemeral instants in a vast, dark eternity.

As the councilor toiled to put her troubles into a more manageable perspective, she gradually regained control over her nervous exasperation at the idea of Aria physically joining her for a conversation. She focused on her office's door, building her resolve.

They were only responsible for the moment, Tevos reminded herself. Just a few droplet moments amid an endless sea of what came before and what would come after. And that wasn't so daunting to Tevos.

When Aria arrived at last, she traveled through the open doorway bearing an expression that suggested she was in the midst of quickly gathering her bearings. She was resurrecting old memories of the layout of the asari councilor's office and making mental adjustments to accommodate changes made in the environment over the years. New furnishings themed by black-and-cream-hued geometry, the occasional small plant cheerfully complementing the minimalistic décor. And then her pale eyes drifted to the area's most permanent, immutable fixture: the councilor herself, standing within her impartial aura of standard welcome and patience. Curiously enough, Aria spent more time adjusting to her presence than to any other detail.

She stepped further into the well-lit office. There came the sound of her boots lightly treating upon immaculate floors, joined by the councilor's pricey shoes. Eye contact was made and remained unbroken. Tevos took in her stature, watching white-clad shoulders faintly shift and brood in reflection of the movements of her legs, witnessing Aria silently conquer the space around and between them with the ruthless preeminence she so diligently yet unconsciously radiated.

A hand was extended and accepted without a word, initiating a gesture of mutual acknowledgement. It was hasty and uncertain—diminishing into a quick retreat almost as soon as it began, and the councilor was already returning to her desk with her guest in tow. Anything to sever their eye contact for an instant of reprieve.

"My secretary Eleni alerted me to your arrival," Tevos said to Aria while descending into her seat. She gestured to the chair before her desk, bidding her to sit as well. While Aria made herself comfortable, Tevos continued, "She told me that you have brought eight mercenaries with you, all of whom are presently standing vigilant in the anteroom. Once again, it seems, you've successfully frightened everyone within a fifty-meter radius of yourself. So I must ask, was it truly necessary to bring your personal task force with you to the Citadel? After all, I'm sure you find our security to be adequate on its own."

The councilor's thoughts were indeed on poor Eleni, whose day had been thoroughly ruined by the assembly stationed in the same room she normally worked in. Earlier that morning, Tevos recalled, after informing Eleni that she would also be attending her family's reunion so that the asari councilor would not have to go without a secretarial crutch if confronted by urgent news from the Citadel, the girl could hardly contain her excitement and beamed for hours. Unfortunately, a certain coalition of extra, unanticipated guests—a pride of darkly-dressed, surly-looking thugs—quietly leering at her from where they loitered in the anteroom, had very likely spoiled her mood.

When presented with the question, the faintest smile appeared on Aria's lips. "I may make mistakes on occasion, Councilor," she smugly said, "but I never make the same one twice."

Tevos interpreted her answer as being in reference to the compromising position Aria had once found herself in long ago while visiting the Citadel. As the memory beset her, some quick math inspired her to ask, "And so you believe you can hold your own with just nine individuals if the circumstance warrants?"

"Did I say there were nine of us?" Aria tilted her head slightly, arrogantly feigning incertitude.

"Are there not?" Tevos inquired. But soon, as they maintained their stare, she came to realize that Aria was subtly insinuating the presence of additional visitors unaccounted for by the Embassies. Clearly, Aria had refined her tactical foresight even beyond what she brought when they initially met, which had already impressed Tevos no small amount.

As Aria watched her with that familiar superiority in her eyes—posing a challenge, as if resuming precisely where they had left off, and therefore as if all the days spent apart instantly collapsed into a single, insignificant, fleeting moment—Tevos was made to wonder what else had evolved. How much her luscious wealth had swelled, how many more mercenaries and operatives had pledged their lives to her ambitions, and how the terrible attrition of Omega's perpetual violence had sharpened her wits and skills like a blade wrought to a divinely keen edge.

Instead of saying anything more, the two were subjected to muteness once again and were satisfied with their shared gaze, still acclimating to one another.

_Such silence between us_ , Tevos thought in reticent awe. Their meeting was, in her honest opinion, extraordinarily anticlimactic compared to the degree of mental preparation she had put herself through. Here Aria was suddenly in her office again, replicating a vividly familiar scene despite its temporal distance. So many aspects about her office had changed or moved to different locations, and even the two presently residing within it had grown exponentially in their respective manners, steadily filling their occupations, yet the passage of time was completely unfelt. But if that was so, then their last encounter should have been at the forefront of their minds, eclipsing all other personal concerns. According to Aria's demeanor, however, the thought was absent or inconsequential.

_How do you bury something like that?_ The councilor wordlessly sent her question toward Aria, and accepted the fact that she would not be receiving an answer so long as she declined to voice it. _How do you keep yourself from saying anything at all? Do you really not care about it in the least bit? I asked you but a few nights ago. I asked you. I did. Why have you not answered me, even after so conspicuously... flirting with me then? Why have you avoided and wasted the opportunity to make a fool out of me?_

Tevos gently, almost inaudibly cleared her throat. "I asked you to come here because I must speak to you about certain subjects that I cannot under any circumstance, save for in person and in very... _sterile_ settings, discuss." She spent a moment examining Aria's waiting, unsatisfied look to gauge her reaction. But before she could continue, Aria began to speak.

"Before you say anything else," she said, leering carefully at the councilor, "I'm going to make this very clear: I'm not signing anything today."

Tevos replied with honesty, "I never intended to ask you to sign anything."

"Well, how wonderful for me," Aria remarked in her usual confusing hybrid of cruel mockery and genuine civility. She brought up a leg to cross over the other and leaned back in her chair with a leisurely slant. "Go on, then."

Tevos hesitated before resuming, deciding that if Aria was going to give her two-sided quips, she was going to graciously return them. "I'm sure you didn't come all this way to banter with me. Or did you, being so terribly starved of that pleasure for so long?"

Aria said nothing, and her enigmatic expression did not change. She blinked once, unmoving, and Tevos unconsciously found herself smiling at Aria's delayed rebuttal.

But her smile immediately disintegrated, sinking into an abyss of self-reprimand she had grown painfully familiar with over time. It had become routine. It had become as cyclical as it was anticipated; an endless process beginning with a smile or some other form of expressed or internal delight at something Aria had said, done, or innately was, followed by a wave of sudden shame. And the result was always the same. After Tevos struggled to banish her encroaching thoughts to the most remote asylums of her mind, she would issue to herself a solemn promise to never again entertain such idle fancies, only to find them freely roaming the landscape of her thoughts once more and not a day later in some recent cases. It was like holding drifts of sand behind porous stone—soon after imprisoning the infectious notions, she would find the dunes steadily peaking anew.

_It is, in essence, and_ _obligation to answer the question of what went wrong, and why I allowed it,_ thought the councilor. _Why I dared listen to my misguided proclivities, and most of all… what breach in my judgment to this day still_ _terrorizes me like this. I cause myself horrendous, endless turmoil because I simply refuse to participate in housing interest in... in Aria. I feel terrible, so very terrible. I need to stop tormenting myself. I need to accept and embrace my mistakes. Acknowledge them, learn from them, move on, and never again repeat the errors of my past. It is the only way to feasibly end this, and end this I must, else it will inhibit my ability to effectively work with Aria. And in these circumstances, such distractions are impermissible._

But there Aria sat aloof in the cleansing light bathing her face but failing to thaw her remote, glacial leer. How complicated things had become, not only around them, but _between_ them. And not even Aria, so resolute and cunning, seemed to be able to find words whose tactful density could save them from silence. So Tevos offered a small smile again, tilting her head a bit as if to insinuate that she had found herself a vestige of victory in Aria's pause, and this time, she did not torment or punish herself for holding the amicable expression.

The very moment she was confronted by that wordless assertion, Aria finally articulated a response skillfully enough to make the councilor suspect that she had been withholding it all along until an opportune moment arrived:

"You know as well as I do that our shared company inevitably ends in some form of friction."

Her smile instantly disappeared. "Of course," Tevos said, pretending to be immune to Aria's instigation. "Now, our first order of business is addressing what sensitive information I wished to divulge you in." She rose from her chair, gathering a datapad into one hand as she made her way toward the corner of her office where wall met window, and began to access something from the tablet. Her back faced her guest. "I will not speak to you about this through any communicative medium save for direct speech. We're relatively safe here. I made certain of the absence of all recording devices that might be 'eavesdropping', but in even further effort to combat a small margin of error, I'd advise you to join me. Here."

After Tevos had accessed the data she sought, she turned back to peer at Aria from over her shoulder, who still remained stationary in her seat before the councilor's desk. She was eyeing her with disobedient suspicion, and perhaps with disapproval at being told where to go. When Aria failed to move over the course of the next few seconds, Tevos beckoned to her again with a benign gesture. At last the crime lord was persuaded, leaving her chair behind to accompany her at the window overlooking the lower tiers of the Presidium. Before she reached her side, however, Aria stopped again, prompting Tevos to reorient her body toward her, perplexed at her insistence to be disagreeable. The councilor sent her a questioning look.

"Someone doesn't want you talking," said Aria.

She _was_ technically correct, but Tevos said nothing, unwilling to so brazenly express her confirmation.

"They have tape over your mouth," Aria quietly pried, suddenly appearing vastly interested. She took a few more steps toward Tevos, closing the distance between herself and the spot previously designated for her occupation. "It's not just sensitive intelligence. It's restricted."

The asari councilor mutely observed her, then cryptically turned away without uttering a word until Aria had filled the spot beside her. Although Aria was not visibly pleased at being denied an immediate answer, Tevos proceeded in a hushed volume, "Please read this. It should answer your question and sufficiently explain my purpose for having you here." She handed Aria her datapad.

Aria took it from her, but kept her penetrating gaze upon Tevos for a brief spell, trying to read her. Once satisfied with her analysis—or after discovering that she had uncovered little through the councilor's returned obscure look—she averted her eyes and redirected them to the datapad.

She spent some time thoroughly reading its contents, which displayed a copy of a personal correspondence between Councilor Tevos and Asari High Command. It was the letter Tevos had received only two days previously, marked with all sorts of glaring red flags and forewarnings of its highly confidential material. After Aria had scrolled past the digital fence of barbed-wire restrictions, she came upon a body of text vividly outlining Asari High Command's plans to rouse sleeper agents into action in the event that Aria T'Loak was deposed and what actions, both militaristic and political, would be taken after a successful seizure of Omega. Although the letter held nothing potent enough to lead to a substantiated accusation of violating treaty, Tevos could see Aria steadily bristling with rage with every moment she spent learning about the secret arrangement. When Aria reached the end of the letter, she found an addendum written by Tevos herself and personally addressed to Aria:

_As you have seen,_ the councilor had written, _although this plan is not intended to be put into action unless you fall from power, the level of secrecy shrouding the matter has led me to suspect that Asari High Command may not be telling me their entire plan, especially since they are aware of the frequency of correspondence between you and myself._ _Not only have they explicitly asked me to withhold every bit of information about this plan from you, but our recent conference gave me yet another reason to hold their transparency under suspicion. You said that Asari High Command had asked for your permission to send their agents to Omega, but as you have discovered in their letter to me, the agents are already present on Omega. Concealed within your syndicate. I found the onus upon myself to reveal this possible treachery to you, and so here you are. I spoke to Asari High Command this very morning, as a matter of fact. I merely insinuated that I intended to help you with your current troubles to gauge their reaction to the idea in hopes that I would discern their true position. They did not forbid me from acting in that manner, but they were remarkably hesitant and reluctant to support me. In conclusion, I lack definitive proof to say that they are in fact actively taking measures to depose you, but these dubious 'coincidences' are far too abundant for us to ignore._

Once she had finished, Aria acridly handed the datapad back to its owner, who half-expected to find cracks in the interface's frame judging by what violent grip it had endured. Fortunately, Tevos found no damages. After completing her quick inspection of the device, she turned her scrutiny onto Aria to assess her as well, and found the crime lord glaring out the window at the Presidium's green foliage, clean walkways, and glistening water with her hands contemptuously fitted on her hips.

"I had a spy of my own amongst them," Aria said, lifting a single hand to thoughtfully rub her jaw. "And I was not alerted to any of this."

Tevos's eyes widened in disbelief at the news, but her look of surprise faded as she reminded herself of just who she was dealing with. When the grimness returned to her face, she turned away from her guest and peered out at the same superficial pleasantries of the Presidium which Aria had her eyes set irefully upon. Softly and austerely, Tevos said to her, "Then she has made a fool of you."

Her comment only seemed to vex Aria more. Not only was she learning that her spy, whoever it was, had been feeding her false information, but also that the _asari councilor_ was far more aware of the situation than she was, which was completely unacceptable.

"Well," Aria bitterly responded, "the fight now has to be taken to them, obviously."

The councilor reestablished eye contact. "And just how will we go about that?" she doubtfully asked. "This should not be perceived as a fight, Aria, but as a misunderstanding or a clash of interests. It should be solved civilly, if we can."

Aria appeared as if she had tasted something vile. " _You_ severely misunderstand. I have no desire to join their little game of subterfuge and get caught up in their ridiculous cloak-and-dagger politics. If they're really up to something I want it ended _now_. And I'm going to do that by putting them in a position where they will find no other choice but to back off." She pulled away from the window, reorienting her body toward Tevos. "I want to confront them directly. Publicly. In front of the entire galaxy so that _all_ will see the irony of being accused of crimes which many expected _myself_ to commit. I'll watch them squirm..."

While Aria seemed quite satisfied with her reflexive, vengeful plan, Tevos was not so convinced of its wisdom. "And if they disavow such conspiracies only to continue them in secret, what then? You antagonize them instead of placating them." She turned her body to mutually face Aria's, leaving the window and its soothing resplendence to pour over her side. "Are you investing in a future where you fall and our people look back to your notorious question, resulting in the condemnation of the 'entity of our interest'? When you're dead, how will you collect the sympathies of the galaxy? Will you be receiving formal apology letters lain upon your grave?"

Aria's temperament, as Tevos saw, was beginning to flare into anger again. "I want High Com—"

On instinct, Tevos raised a hand and tentatively in action, yet boldly in nature, halted Aria's assertion by swiftly placing a few fingers to her lips. Aria's evident distaste at being silenced, let alone touched in that fashion, prompted Tevos to immediately remove her hand as soon as its job of hushing the other asari had been completed.

"Please," she said as quietly as possible, "do not explicitly refer to them."

Aria's disdain was unfortunately not subdued any significant amount, but she complied with the councilor's ban on uttering Asari High Command's name. "I want them out of the picture _now_ ," she hissed instead. "If they're striking at me I'm going to do the same to them in a manner that hurts them most: through negative publicity. No one wants to hear about how their contingent government is endangering their security by prodding at the heart of the Terminus Systems with their fucking _greed_."

"If I recall correctly," Tevos noted, "you boldly abused a similar paradigm of deception years ago."

She glared. "Yes, but I had no intentions to _colonize_ this hellhole."

"Mind you that 'colonize' is a very, very inaccurate word in this situation."

" _Captured under their imperial umbrella_ , then. _Whatever_ terminology satisfies your pedantic fetish," Aria irritably growled, wishing to escape the tangent. "I am going on the offensive. If you won't be joining in during my little address to our _friends_ , so be it. So at this point, you have a few choices. Accompany me in my accusation, be absent from it and leave our _friends_ to their embarrassment alone, or get them out of Omega yourself by handling this privately. Within the next few days, preferably."

Councilor Tevos spent a moment processing Aria's suggestions before they malignantly settled into her heart, and she was made indignant by them. She was by no means a rash or violent woman, but there came a point when even her patience waned so thin that she began to actually consider reproachfully hitting Aria over the head with the datapad still clutched in her hand. The primitive urge was easily suppressed—for the sake of maturity, etiquette, and sensibility—but its very ignition was in and of itself a detection of a foul deal indeed.

Aria's disparaging, domineering attitude toward the asari councilor had been tolerated far beyond what Tevos would have normally allowed for anyone, and even after incredible leniency Aria still insisted on issuing _orders_. Effacing her great displeasure behind her usual cold disposition, she expressed her grievance. "I am going to lengths to _help_ you, yet you remain insistent on treating me as if I were a common pawn in your plans."

Her frigid tone caught Aria's curiosity and attention, at the very least.

"You _dare_ present me with an ultimatum after I have been so generous to you?" Tevos asked her, sounding more incredulous than offended. "You dare continue to treat me so impertinently, as if my power and influence in galactic matters is so comparatively little to yours? You, Aria T'Loak... seem to be living within quite the myopic delusion." She tore her eyes away from Aria's mildly intrigued ones and returned her desk, but did not sit down and instead lingered standing beside her chair.

"A delusion?" Aria repeated as if drawing humor from the notion. "I made no comment on your power, only on what actions you can feasibly consider at this point. If you're so sensitive and insecure about your authority maybe my denigrating isn't so inappropriate after all."

This gave Tevos pause. She finally faced Aria again, eyes and posture full of dignity with her lips pressed firmly together. "My qualm does not lie in my self-security," she said, "but in _your_ refusal to give me the amount of respect I deserve. I am not lesser than you, nor would I dare attempt equating us for we reside in different niches of the galaxy altogether. But basic respect for a fellow leader of similar capacity should easily transcend barriers of culture and distance. If you find giving me the respect I demand an impossible feat, you will in turn receive little from me."

Aria had folded her arms in wicked amusement, and replied to the councilor in animated derision, "Well I suppose I must concede, because I couldn't imagine a worse fate—to not have the respect of the exalted asari councilor...!"

Yet another moment passed wherein Tevos was choked by indignation, hardly able to process the insults being dealt to someone of her rank.

"I will not stand for this," the councilor rigidly stated. "If your presence were not imperative at the moment, I would have you ejected from my office." She tore her eyes away, positively flooded with disdain. Never mind whatever strange affinity for Aria had lingered into the present. Accompanying it, inconveniently, were also all the things about Aria which she condemned. And there was no shortage of those—perhaps even enough to restore complete neutrality through cancellation.

"You don't think I respect you?" Aria inquired from her position by the window. Mockery still tainted her tone.

Tevos said nothing at first, nor did she turn to address her guest. Instead she recalled a conclusion she had arrived at a few days previously, and spoke as if her words were as curious to herself as they were to their recipient, "No. That is not what I think." She thoughtfully considered, then slowly looked back at Aria, who hadn't altered her stance. "No. I think you _do_ respect me, but only refuse to admit it. Perhaps you're threatened by me."

"Threatened by you?" Aria scoffed, letting her arms fall back to her sides. "And you accuse _me_ of living in a delusion..."

"But it's not delusional at all," argued Tevos. "You so intensely pride yourself on your ability to intimidate every ally or adversary you encounter. Your self-image is grand and glorious and there is no one who could fairly best you in any arena, any faculty. You _reduce_ everyone around you who poses a threat or rival, to discourage them from challenging you, from objecting to your whims. And so shame on me if I ever allow you to minimize my self-perception into anything less than what I am."

The accusation had secured Aria's utmost interest, enough to render her attentively listening with what Tevos dared to identify as _fascination_.

"It is your _desperate_ attempt to assert yourself over me," Tevos iterated, finding herself unable to stop expressing her long list of grievances once she had began. Fifty years came rushing forth as she finally found all the words necessary to describe their behavior over that vast amount of time. "We struggle to secure the superior hand, passive-aggressively monitoring one another's activities and comparing them to our own achievements. Well, it has gone on for long enough. It is counterproductive and _immature_. One moment we are collaborating with absolutely no trouble to speak of, often more swiftly and effectively than when I work with _my own colleagues_ , but a time always and tragically comes when our efforts screech to a halt because we cannot _bear_ to think of the other as being the prime arbiter of our projects. And so we squander our time and energy—arguing in circles, deceiving, bartering with one another. Hoping to find that rare foothold which will bring one of us to stand triumphantly over the other." She cast her eyes away in a downward glance, collecting her thoughts again before spilt forth again in discordance. When she looked up at Aria, she gently shook her head. "Enough, Aria. We can't afford to remain a moment longer mired in our own self-destructive pride."

_Your pride_ , she silently added in an afterthought, but would not voice it and have the somewhat hypocritical comment undermine her statement.

Aria's glare was upon her, but she made no motions against the councilor. How brash Tevos had been; sending verbal daggers at Omega's powerful, frightful emissary who forever lied complacent on the veranda of war. One more call to war, no matter the identity of the challenger or the size of her armies, would be drowned out by all of history's chronicled tales of strife, reduced to nothing but a banal murmur in the barracks. The asari councilor stood her ground as well as behind her words, defending them with her own resilience, but now Aria approached. Tevos could not help but reflexively steel herself for fear of what confrontation might come.

Aria accosted her, arriving to a stop at a distance slightly too close for comfort. A tiny stirring in Tevos's hands—her urge to raise them and halt Aria from drawing any closer—was repressed, for it would only have revealed her unease. And unease was exactly what Aria was trying to elicit. Her confrontation was threateningly augmented with a slight forward lean, bringing her face right up to the councilor's at a small arresting tilt. Altogether, it took every ounce of Tevos's resolve to keep from shrinking away in a chagrined fluster.

"Tell me what you want again," Aria said. "Tell me what it is you want from me." She was a wall of dormant force, steady and focused at once—the warlord with innumerable lives, weapons, and credits carried upon her shoulders and holding that monstrous weight aloft, capriciously. Then, Tevos read something a bit softer, or possibly imagined it: a tinge of imploring, searching, _wishing_ to receive a specific reply that would rejuvenate what respect had suffered decay through absence. Much doubt had festered over time.

_So is it a dare or a compromise?_ The thought flitted through the councilor's mind as she privately—frantically—tried to discern the intent of her request. _More likely the former_ , she decided.

"I demand you treat me with proper respect," Tevos clarified. "I am _not_ your minion. It has been proven that our united capabilities are a force to be reckoned with, but if I'm automatically deferring to your judgment, my contributions become stifled. It doesn't serve you to presume you hold all the answers. The very opposite was shown just moments ago. You've seen the holes in your perception, Aria. Would you consciously neglect to fill them? Actually, don't answer that. You will _not_ be deciding whether I should take an active or servile role. You will be deciding whether I collaborate with you as an equal, or not at all. That is _my_ ultimatum to you."

Neither moved at first. The stillness was only terminated when Aria averted her blank expression from the brave, stationary councilor, and stood down from her intimidating loom. She leaned against Tevos's desk instead, not a pace away, and folded her arms.

_And what does that mean?_ Tevos pondered, a bit relieved at the fading hostility, but perturbed at Aria's lack of explicit confirmation. Was that just her way of agreeing to another's terms without having to verbally concede and grant the other party the satisfaction they desired?

"I'm not going to cowardly sit in the shadows," Aria said at length. "I'm not going to speculate and hide indefinitely while an enemy may be advancing. I _will_ be taking measures to safeguard against them, and our best option is using the public as a buffer between me and... those _friends._ Threats of outrage will certainly dampen their confidence if they're up to something."

"But we haven't a shred of real proof," Tevos pointed out. "The worst that could be said of them is their secretive conventions. Shouting out unsubstantiated suspicions will make us appear... deranged, and we will gain neither sympathy nor cause for rally against 'our friends'. You will seem volatile and paranoid while I will seem impulsive and unreasonable for so quickly siding with a Terminus Space crime lord without a clear and proper motivation. The reaction would be horrendous for our relations and my reputation. And it is well within your interests to preserve me as much as I desire to preserve you. If my competency is questionable enough I can be removed, and you will no longer be able to take advantage of my generosity."

"And a different asari councilor wouldn't feel the need to keep our treaty in place?"

"Mind you that my friend Irissa is a viable, favored replacement. And she still dislikes you with great intensity." Tevos knew that Irissa was not cold-hearted enough to act against Aria, especially since Tevos always expressed her stubborn support of maintaining peaceful and honest relations. In actuality, Irissa would most definitely help Aria in times of need instead of betraying her to High Command's behests—but Aria didn't need to know that at the moment.

"So you come to me with this information," said Aria, her voice increasing in volume and in displeasure as she faced Tevos, "and you tell me that I cannot act upon it?"

"You cannot _attack_ anyone, Aria. But you can brace yourself and take defensive measures. The two are remarkably different."

"And just how do you suppose I go about that?"

"The first thing you can do is lift your ban on Spectres. I hoped divulging you in this important information was an adequate token of good faith to prove our friendliness." Tevos stood erect, staring into the harsh blue eyes that burned into her own as she prepared to make a dire request; the primary objective of their meeting. She delivered it with surgical precision. "The second thing you can do... is grant me access to names of operatives in your syndicate. I can run comparisons and alert you to any familiar names I find."

"Of course you want that," Aria bitterly said. "Of course. That's why we're here. So you can manipulate the situation, shove your nose into Omega's business and—"

"—and potentially _save your life,_ " Tevos stressed in exasperation. "I am still astounded at how conservatively you clutch your intelligence. You give me nothing, Aria. You give me absolutely nothing unless I'm willing to barter my integrity away through your attempted bribery and countless other scams. Do you honestly still suspect that I'm trying to force Citadel presence on Omega? You won't even directly answer that question. For you answer _nothing_ I ask. Nothing of great consequence. I still do not know if you continue to see me as an enemy. I still do not know if you are willing to respect me as an equal." Her breath nearly caught in her throat as she summoned the courage to delineate a certain question plaguing her, unanswered for far too long: "And I still don't know why you refuse to speak of what happened during our last meeting."

Aria only emerged from her motionless stance to unfold her arms and place her hands on the edges of the councilor's desk, leering over at the owner with a vicious, empty fact forming on her lips. And before she gave it, anticipation welled up in Tevos's fretting chest and it was as if the entire world had come to ominously wrap around Aria alone.

"Nothing that I could have said," Aria meticulously began, choosing her words like the careful selection of poisons, "would have ever mirrored the effect absolute silence had on you."

So few words had stabbed her so thoroughly. There was pain, there was strange dejection, but most of all, there was anger. Anger at being disregarded, manipulated, forgotten... For the second time that hour, Tevos wanted to throw Aria out of her office. Miraculously, she didn't.

"Very well," she alternatively said, smothering down a hitch in her voice by determination alone. "But you still need to consider how I could help you by screening operatives for unusual associations. There is in fact a chance we could locate a potential traitor to your syndicate without their detection, and you will then have the opportunity to capture them. I'm sure you're in dire need of a productive interrogation."

"It is interesting, though," Aria began in a sly but venomous tone that immediately alerted Tevos to the slight irrelevancy of her coming statement, "to have not lost your attention. The passage of years, combined with the adversity I tend to attract, are usually enough to deter anyone."

Tevos frowned. "I appreciate you being so vocal about this all of a sudden, but I believe that subject has passed us."

The look Aria gave her suggested otherwise, sabotaging Tevos's decision to move on from that topic. But Tevos refused to humor her, even after she spent a brief instant wondering whether she had possibly misinterpreted Aria's answer. If it was not a revelation of ruthless manipulation used to mildly addle Tevos's judgement of Aria over the past half-century, what was it? Aria sounded oddly intrigued... There was more to her words than their unfeeling pretense. Hidden substrata of motive lied out of reach, embedded deeply within Aria's refusal to give away any more information than what was absolutely needed. But what was there? Some surviving interest belying her remote disposition, stubbornly defied so that she could maintain control over the situation?

Tevos decisively severed her trail of thought. She would not dwell on it longer than necessary. Rather, she wanted nothing more than to return to the concern at hand. Complicating something already too complex to make a figment of sense out of was not a lucrative goal, and amidst all the clouds of confusion circulating Tevos's head, one thing remained faithfully constant: she was pragmatic and reasonable, and this current topic was not.

"Will you accept my help or not?" she asked Aria.

Aria permitted her to redirect their conversation. "If I do accept your help," she replied, "I wouldn't hand over any information where we are now. Even in your _own office_ you're too terrified to even speak the name of the people we're talking about. What does that say about your confidence in your security? Some of the information you request from me has never been seen by any other eyes. If you seriously want to help me, you need to do better than this."

"I'm going to have my office swept multiple times by separate groups of C-Sec to account for intentional deception. But on such short notice, you know there are very few available settings where we can conduct business. I cannot leave the Citadel to pursue a conference with you, and it is terribly unlikely that I could even meet you somewhere on the Presidium without having a dozen C-Sec guards hovering over my shoulder. Quite literally, if I might add. There is nowhere else, Aria. We may have to take the risk right here."

"There's really nowhere else? Nowhere you can think of? I find that hard to believe."

Tevos folded her arms in thought, lifting a few slender fingers to rest upon her bottom lip as she mentally listed every location she could think of. There was simply _nowhere_ they could go where C-Sec would not stand vigilantly present or where they could both enjoy the near-certitude of having no extra ears or eyes monitoring their business. But total secrecy was imperative. No one could be informed of their private meetings, else every plan they contrived would be rendered useless.

_Nothing less than a subterranean bunker would suffice,_ Tevos wearily thought. _Some personal haven exclusive to those deliberately invited._

A solution struck her then... but it was not an ideal one. It was an abject one, rather. The very _last_ solution Tevos would have ever considered, let alone agreed to, but the situation demanded it to be proposed as a possible site for their usage. To preserve the sacred secrecy of the location, Tevos lifted the datapad they had recently used from her desk, opened a blank document, and typed out her suggestion:

_There is one location removed from the watchful eyes of guards and devices. I know how this will sound to you. I am terribly aware of that, but it is the only place that satisfies our demand for secrecy. If you can conceive a way to visit me at my apartment this evening without the notice of C-Sec, we can continue our business there._

She passed the datapad to Aria, who took it in hand and began to read. Tevos watched her, intently studying her expression in anticipation of her reaction. Aria's behavior hardly deviated from her pessimistic expectation. She turned her vivid eyes away from the text, locking them with the councilor's. Then, an amused sound escaped her lips while her face lit up with tainted delight. Her shoulders lightly quivered as a laugh rose from her body, quietly at first, and ended in resonating cruelty. Tevos received the datapad again when Aria began to find its contents too humorous to look upon any longer.

"You requested a reasonable location," Tevos said, firmly objecting to Aria's reaction, "and I have suggested the only one I can think of. I fail to see how you find it so amusing."

After Aria had shed the last grips of her rare laughter, she replied, "What a grand plan. All from the councilor who jumps in fright at the very word _scandal._ "

"Do you approve of this suggestion or not?" Tevos pressed her, struggling to fight away the warmth of abashment creeping into her cheeks.

Aria calmly monitored Tevos with a speculative gaze for quite some time, a ghost of an entertained smile still holding onto her lips. It brought an anxious, irked pain to the asari councilor's mood, but she concealed it with grace as she awaited her guest's answer.

It was going to be _yes_. Like in many other conversations, she could detect subtle signs of agreement surfacing in Aria's features. An openness to an alternate, unanticipated solution. An openness to possibility and to outlandish outcome. To what strange and inexplicable ends their company would bring; the unfolding resurrection of things they had once defaulted amnesiac to for the sake of practicality.

Tevos returned to her chair, to her datapad, and began typing out a well-organized list of detailed steps which could be taken to ensure Aria's success in evading security during her journey to the aforementioned, forbidden destination. As seconds passed while she briskly entered characters, she began to feel slightly panicked at what instructions manifested at her fingertips. Tevos could feel Aria hovering over her shoulder, curiously spectating the birth of their plan. She misspelled a word, corrected it, moved on, and committed similar errors multiple times afterward. This drove her to pause. She collected herself, looked up from the datapad for a reprieve, but found herself sparing Aria a glance. When she saw the amusement in Aria's eyes, she instantly tore her gaze away.

This new turn of events had seemed to quell any lasting anger or indomitable reservations Aria had toward divulging Tevos in her most treasured and guarded intelligence. No longer was Aria the one surrendering more to their collaboration—this invitation to the councilor's living space was simply too rich, too magnificent a sin to not take advantage of.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

TO: LISELLE KASANTIS  
FROM: ARIA T'LOAK  
SUBJECT: Orders  
ATTACHMENT: COORDINATES, BUILD. PLAN 1

Despite the Patriarch's failure to pass on any new information, your chat with him was not completely wasteful. After reading the report of your mission, a thought occurred to me when bounty hunting guilds were mentioned. Many independent organizations lie on the edges of my territory, and although they do not officially defer to me, they tend to respect my enterprises and wishes. However, that mutual understanding must now come into suspicion, because this particular group of bounty hunters do in fact possess all the equipment and skills necessary to carry out elaborate assassinations.

I checked the armor the dead assailants wore. In particular, the green nodules dotting the limbs and chest areas (we recognized them to be components of a new, experimental shield generator) were consistent with what some bounty hunter guilds have been ordering from arms dealers over the past few months. I want to know what they're up to. I want access to their records; their hit lists, clients, and alliances.

The heart of Denar Calan's guild is located on the outskirts of the Zeta District. You'll find the details about the exact location in an attachment to this message. I've also managed to supply you with a floor plan of the building itself. A vital resource, since you will be extracting data from their terminals. Rasma Visiom is properly equipped for the job, but it's up to you all to find a way in and out of the building with all the information I want. Do not alert them to your allegiance to me—they have no way of knowing that you aren't just throwing my name around to steal their records and put them out of business as a rival guild of some sort. They'll likely kick you out on the spot, or even try to kill you if you reveal your objective to them.

Plan this out carefully, use diversions and your own initiative, and have escape routes prepared.

.

The company of three stood deep within the dead-end alleyway hewn into the Zeta District's dismal walls of commerce. Winding pipes and wires crawled along the chaotic spires, dipping and bending along their faces with the confidence of vine growth. There were sporadic leaks in the pipes here and there many meters above, their streams placidly dripping through their damaged conduits and settling down in a slick veneer over the metal walls that luridly glistened in the minimal light. Repairs had obviously been procrastinated for some time, but the unwelcoming atmosphere furthermore concealed the trio from passerby gazes, as was intended. And the only eye in the darkness still trained upon their position was blind; naught but a lone camera frozen in time by the wary Rasma Visiom.

As they spent their time lingering in the damp shadows, they assessed whether or not the setting was adequate to discuss strategy in. Liselle, particularly, found the area to be quite acceptable almost immediately, and consequentially failed to grasp the extent of her other companions' paranoia. Her optimism tainted her judgment, for it had awoken from a long slumber with endless zeal that morning upon receiving genuine orders from her mother. Not a menial consultation, not a daft scavenger hunt, but an actual, dignified task involving the careful infiltration of a notorious bounty hunter headquarters and purloin of their useful information. Such youthful, foolish pride coursed through her body at the opportunity, and nothing could quell the eagerness rising in her heart. Not even the dangerous reality of the mission shouted loud enough to speak over the delightful pounding in her chest. And so intense were her racing thoughts that Liselle was momentarily deaf to Rasma's words when the turian finally began to speak, and the girl gave her full attention only when her eyes traced the colored light of an omni-tool projecting the image of a building and its primary construction plans.

"The terminal of interest is here," said Rasma, pointing at the slowly-rotating image to draw their sight to a specific room. "The administrator's terminal, in Calan's office. It houses all the files we need. All that any other terminal would give us is small bits sent from this main one. If we hit _this_ one, we'll have all that Aria wants. To get the intelligence, we'll use a certain hacking program I've worked with for the past few years to plant a data mining virus in the terminal that'll continuously siphon any information stored—and whatever updates Calan makes in the future—to us, and without his notice. I reiterate: _without his notice_. That is _imperative_. If he suspects even for a moment that his security has been compromised, Calan will likely wipe everything and we will no longer be able to monitor hunter activities." She began to manipulate the holographic model, tracing possible routes through the halls and rooms leading to the office. "The problem," she began again, her expression darkening, "is getting into the office undetected, of course. The hunters have established a bit of a community here, and many frequent the building during every hour of the day. All armed, all experienced, and all unaligned with any Omegan power save for themselves."

"So dropping Aria's name really isn't going to get us anywhere, then," Malak grimly remarked. He folded his arms.

"That's correct," Rasma verified. "They're prone to shoot at anyone save Aria herself, and even if she _was_ here I doubt they'd delay a panicked destruction of any evidence that could expose them for acting against her. Obviously, we're going to have to be discreet about this. We're going to have to find a way to lure Calan out of his office, slip someone in there while he's gone, and abscond without anyone noticing."

"A distraction, then?" Liselle offered, recalling what Aria had suggested. "To occupy Calan long enough for someone to get the records, right?"

"We're going to have to use one, yes," said Rasma, turning her green eyes onto the young asari. "From the intel Aria's already gathered about this place, we know that Calan only deals with mercenaries and bounty hunters in the main lobby, and on top of that, the only time he'll work with someone face-to-face is when they're very important clients or hirelings. The lobby is right here." She indicated the mentioned area with an index finger. "It doubles as a lounge where mercs go to waste their time and money on alcohol and gambling. If we can pretend that we're there to sign up for a bounty, and if we choose the worst bastard on the hit list, Calan might grant us an audience to discuss details and pay."

They all spent a moment within their own minds, surrounded by the delicate sound of water dripping from heights and hitting the weaving pipes and metal ground below. The patters echoed throughout the tall, dour corridor. Rasma continued to immerse herself in the building's layout as her two companions stared blankly at the glowing orange model, trying to call upon their resources of creative thinking for a viable plan of action.

"What about this?" Malak spoke up, pulling one arm out of its cross over his chest to gesture at the ventilation system within the building. He traced the vents and their branching routes with a pointed digit. "Didn't those assholes who attacked Aria use this sort of strategy to do it? They avoided the cameras and everything."

"That's... a very clever idea, actually," Rasma conceded to him, focusing intensely on the model. "The vents circulate the air in the building, and one leads to every single room. We'd have complete access, and like you said, the evasion of cameras. We can put someone in there while the other two distract Calan, have the lone one drop down into his office, hack his terminal, and climb back out."

After further examination, Rasma turned away from them, leaving them in the shadows as the radius of light emitted from her omni-tool departed with her. Liselle and Malak watched her wander over to the side of the building where she stopped and lifted her head to scour the walls. Beyond her silhouette, the dim Omegan horizon bled through the spaces between towers near and far. Over the course of a few seconds, Rasma would methodically glance down at her omni-tool, then at the building again until she appeared to discover what she was searching for. When she had, she motioned for her allies to join her. They did as she requested, leaving the murky darkness of the deep alley to emerge into the weak, rust-hued light.

"Right here," Rasma said to them, pointing up at an inconspicuous square of grating mounted above, presumably leading directly into the headquarters. "This will get someone into the building. So—would anyone like to volunteer?" She turned her body to face them both.

The exchanged uncertain glances, and none of them said anything for next few unsettling seconds.

"You're the only one who knows how to hack terminals well," said Malak. "You'd really let us risk screwing this up?"

"The program I've brought for this job has been incredibly streamlined," she replied. "Aria has thrown piles of credits at its development over the past several years, and her investment has returned well. It's a lock-and-key style interface. All you have to do is request permission to view and alter a terminal's data cache, and of course, it'll request certain encrypted passwords. Usually the owner's ID. What this program does is essentially construct an alpha-numerical representation of the 'lock', and the user of the program only needs to find the corresponding 'key'. You're just reading lines of code, Lekahn. Match the letters, numbers, and colors."

He appeared unhappy with the explanation, but seemed to understand. "So... who's going in? I don't think I'd be able to." He rapped his knuckles onto the breastplate of his armor twice to produce a distinct knocking sound. "It's not exactly stealth if everyone in the building hears me banging around in the vents right above their heads. And as for you, Visiom... You're a little too... pointy."

The turian glowered, unamused at the reference to her anatomy. Malak was right, of course; the many jutting extremities of her hard turian carapace, such as her joints and collarbones, would inevitably compromise her location sooner or later even with the padding of her light armor to help muffle the noise. Unless Rasma glacially crawled along the ventilation system's interior, of course, but they did not possess the luxury of excess time to accommodate such a sluggish pace. With all other options eliminated for practicality and efficacy, all eyes gradually found themselves trained upon the third member of their trio, who had stood passively silent for the past minute or so.

Liselle's gaze darted back and forth between Rasma and Malak before understanding what they intended for her. "You want me to do this?" she asked them. All too suddenly, her eagerness for the mission abandoned her in a flurry of disillusionment. Glory was not so easily found in a system of dark vents suspended directly over a pit of dangerous hit men, she came to soberly realize.

"You're perfect for this," Rasma insisted. "You're smaller than either of us, so you'll fit into the vents with little problem. And you're wearing commando attire. You'll be utterly noiseless."

The girl drew in a brave breath, taking a final glance at their faces before arriving to the conclusion of her fate being virtually sealed. She was the most appropriate candidate for the job, and it was a vital job indeed. "Yeah, I'll do it," she agreed at last. "But I might need you to explain the program a little more—we probably only have one shot at this."

"That's correct, and I won't be able to help you once you're in Calan's office," said the turian. "Speaking of which, we need a signal to alert you of the moment when Calan's out and greeting us. Something that won't sound suspicious or out of place..." She trailed off to think. "Lekahn, do you carry a lighter?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Give it to Liselle."

"What?"

"Calan's an old-school batarian," Rasma explained. "If we're here for important business he's going to offer us cigars. That'll be our signal. You'll ask me for a lighter once we're sitting down with Calan. Liselle will be right over our heads, listening, and when she hears the signal she'll know it's safe to proceed. I need you to give Liselle your lighter because when we go into the building, they're going to search us. I highly doubt they'll ask us to hand over our weapons, but they'll want to know what we're carrying. If they find a lighter on you only to hear you ask for one a few minutes later, it'll sound odd. And with a bit of bad luck, Calan might be skittish enough to call off the meeting. I've done a lot of work with assassins, and they're easily some of the most paranoid people in the galaxy. We can never be too thorough."

Malak shoved a hand into one of his pockets and relinquished a small metal lighter to Liselle, who carefully stowed it away.

"All right," said Rasma, mentally surveying the situation to make sure all was accounted for. "Liselle has a map in her omni-tool to navigate the vents, we have an all-clear signal... Ah, yes. In the case of emergency, say if Calan returns early for some reason, we'll try our best to give you warning. If that happens, even if you're in the middle of hacking his terminal, I want you to escape as quickly as you can. If we fail today Aria can always send someone else to try the same thing, but if they find out who we are and what we're doing, there's no telling how Calan will make it impossibly hard for the next group to succeed. Keep this in mind. Now, Liselle, you wanted me to explain the program again? All right, listen closely..."

Several minutes were sacrificed to Liselle's education, but they were well-utilized. She was quick to understand the details and procedures Rasma outlined to her, and only after they could no longer conceive and provide solutions to a hypothetical conditions where something went wrong did they end the lecture, repeat their entire plan of action once more to achieve impeccable consensus, and went to work in the three-part machine they had incisively designed in that alley. Liselle used her biotics to pull the metal grating out of place before receiving a boost up into the ventilation system from the reluctant Malak, who interlocked his fingers together to form an elevated step. Once she had successfully climbed into the vent, she managed to turn around in the cramped space to face her two squadmates, who sought her confirmation.

"Ready, then?" Malak asked her, and promptly received a nod from the asari. "Good, let's stop skulking around this alley already..."

Rasma and Malak departed, rounding the corner of the building to head toward its main entrance where they would be greeted by the mercenaries serving as guards. Meanwhile, Liselle brought her legs close to her chest, and with a slightly strained face, turned around once again to face the darkness of the vents. When she became still, she could hear the faint sound of speech too indistinct to be translated, accompanied by echoes of the occasional creak originating far off into the heart of the cold maze, likely caused by the expanding and condensing of the cheap metal as its temperature rose and fell over time. And there was a hum, a low industrial hum; water running through pipes, or perhaps the activity of a power generator. But the loudest sound of all was that of her own hushed breaths, amplified by the closed space and spitefully reflecting back to her the reality of her own rising apprehension.

With a final deep breath to calm her fears and uncertainty, Liselle began her bold foray into enemy territory, paying respect to the asari commandos and infiltrators she aspired to rival one day by placing every step on hand and knee in utter silence, all without losing an inconvenient amount of speed. As she rounded the first corner, it rapidly became quite patent that the inky darkness enclosing her was thick enough to invoke a craving for the fiery light of her omni-tool, which she summoned with a few taps to her forearm and brandished like a torch to illuminate her way.


	11. Trespassers

The girl lightly shivered. Somewhere far off into the ventilation system was a steady, artificially cooled breeze, generated to continuously circulate the air in the building that would otherwise stagnate. Her cheeks were growing colder by the second as the frigid air enveloped her. She came across a division in the vents, illuminated by the glow of her omni-tool which also displayed the map of the system and consequently, the correct route leading her to the location she and her team had identified as the main lobby. Liselle made her choice, starting down a new branch and bravely losing herself deeper into the maze as she listened to the voices of her teammates crackling in her earpiece, allowing her to eavesdrop on their encounter with the mercenaries standing guard outside the building.

A few minutes were spent navigating through the claustrophobic spaces, and after their lonely duration Liselle reached her target: a grating bolted into the floor of the vents, emitting beams of light that glittered off dust particles floating in front of its resplendence. She wisely dismissed her omni-tool, protecting herself from the possibility where someone would look upward and notice a suspicious orange glow. Once that precaution had been taken, Liselle inched closer to the grating's edge and peered down to observe the events transpiring below her position.

The scents of sour cigarette smoke and pungent alcohol drifting up and filling her nostrils made her involuntarily wrinkle her nose in mild disgust. After she overcame the smell, Liselle turned her eyes upon the individuals mulling about: mercenaries of all breeds with impressive guns fastened to their sets of rugged armor sitting around tables laden with playing cards, credit chits, and drinking glasses; some chatting and boasting to their grinning acquaintances where they stood leaning aloof against the walls; and others yet whispering closely to each other and periodically throwing furtive glances over their shoulders. She didn't have to wait long before she spotted the unmistakable figures of Malak and Rasma traveling right beneath the grating, heading down the central aisle between sets of tables and inevitably toward the back counter where a krogan was serving drinks. Liselle heard their voices in her earpiece, coupled by their faint echo amidst the drone of chatter below, while also occasionally catching glimpses of their movements in between intervals where mercenaries passed through her line of sight.

"Freelancers, huh?" came the rumbling tone of the krogan. "You get mixed up with us, that'll change real soon."

"We still need some work," Rasma replied. "Haven't been able to find any good contracts lately, and we heard that Calan had a pretty stable flow of them. If that's true, then who knows? We might just be inclined to stick around."

The krogan grumbled something indistinct, then spoke more clearly, "Well, you both look like you can handle yourselves. If you're serious about looking for work, I'll have to tell you how Calan runs things around here. Clients show up and tell us who they want offed, we arrange a price, and we pass on the contract to the hunters. If you get the job done, and if you manage to meet all 'specifications' the client wanted, you get a sixty percent cut of the original bounty. The other forty goes to the guild's coffers. Want to raise your cut? Stick around, improve your rep, impress Calan, and he might just work something out with you. Aside from that, anyone's allowed to hang around as long as you play by our rules and don't bring your trouble with you. We've got enough to deal with these days—what with T'Loak slowly marching in from all sides and local gangs raving in the streets..."

"So this is a bit of an honorable establishment, then?" Rasma inquired with a tinge of sarcasm.

"We look out for our own and don't act like animals, if that's what you're asking," answered the krogan. "So what'll it be? Still want a contract?"

Rasma looked over at Malak, pretending to consult her companion before making a decision. He folded his arms, thinking, and mused aloud, "Sounds good to me. Freelance work is getting a little unreliable. It would be nice to convert to a steadier source of income for once."

With that settled, the krogan turned to access the list of bounties from a device stored beneath the counter. He passed it onto them, and while Malak leaned in to read its contents along with Rasma, the krogan asked, "So what type of partners are you?"

"Business," Rasma immediately answered without looking up. "Twelve years, I think."

Liselle waited a few moments before her turian ally spoke up again.

"This one," she said to Malak, who nodded in agreement. "This guy." She informed the krogan as well.

"Really?" he dubiously asked. "We've already lost two hunters to that bastard, and the contract has only been up for a few weeks."

"We need the money and we know what we're doing," Rasma dismissed his warning.

After a pause, the krogan suspiciously muttered, "This better not be a joke."

"Just give us the details, let us sign for the contract, and we'll be out of here," Malak insisted.

Another pause, eventually followed by the krogan's acquiescence. "Stay right here a few minutes. Calan would probably want to speak to you first."

Liselle could scarcely hear what was said next, but an orange interface became visible upon his arm.

"While we wait," the krogan said, "how about a drink? First round for new faces is on the house. And if you geniuses really want to take this bounty, it might be your last."

Malak accepted his offer the very instant Rasma declined. He was served a drink while Rasma simmered at his complacency, and was only able to spend a few moments tasting the liquor before he became aware of the ferocious gaze burning into the side of his head.

"What?" he irritably asked. "Twelve years and I'm still not allowed to choose what I put into my face?"

Stationed above, Liselle had made herself comfortable in the vents, lying prone with her legs stretched out straight and her arms folded with hands tucked beneath her chin. She entertained herself by spying on all the other loitering mercs, watching them drink and gamble while listening to her teammates' sporadic chatter on the side. At last, a batarian emerged from a back door to greet them, introducing himself as Denar Calan before exchanging professional nods with the fake hunters and asking them about the bounty. They insisted on taking it in defiance of his austere warnings which urged them to start with smaller bounties so that their skills were not so brashly wasted on fantastical titans, but he was ultimately unable to dissuade them. Large sums of money were needed as soon as possible, they explained, and the danger associated with the bounty would be nothing against their decade-plus of experience. At last they were able to convince Calan of their unshakable commitment to silencing the individual they had selected, and so he proceeded to lead the two over to an unoccupied booth away from the heart of the mercenary sea where they sat down. They were closer to Liselle now, who could faintly make out Calan's countenance. The batarian wore a few scars and shallow creases of age in the ridges of his face, with some contributing to an accentuated, perpetual frown hanging onto the corners of his mouth.

Once the three were situated, Calan lifted a hand to motion to one of his employees. The person disappeared from sight and reappeared a minute later with a small plate stacked with cigars and set it down onto their table. Calan motioned to both Rasma and Malak to take one if they pleased, noting to Rasma that the ones marked by a red band were made with dextro-amino herbs.

Malak reached out, took an unmarked one between a thumb and index finger, then pretended to search his attire for the item he had previously relinquished to Liselle. When he 'discovered' it was absent, he turned to his partner and asked her, "Hey, do you have a lighter?"

"I don't," she replied. "Not at the moment."

"That's not a problem," Calan said. "I have one to spare."

Liselle watched Malak light himself a cigar while Rasma abstained once again. She almost snorted at the sight—the man was just putting all sorts of things in his face today, liberally consuming all the offerings made by people who would probably have him killed if they knew what he and his associate were up to. But it was candid, Liselle recognized. It was convincing, and appropriately drew suspicion away from Rasma's intense prudence. After watching the tendrils of smoke begin to rise from the two batarians in that booth, Liselle acted on the signal to proceed. She carefully crawled over the grating, making sure not to place her weight on it while passing, and once she had left the aura of light behind she flicked on her omni-tool and redisplayed the map projection.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

The councilor was pacing within a fog of worry. Her arms were folded across her chest, tucked into the comfortable folds of her pale night robe donned over the silky attire she frequently wore to bed—a thin shirt fastened together in the front by a column of dainty nacreous buttons, accompanied by its mate whose identical material sheathed her legs from waist to ankles. It was a very conservative ensemble, and appropriately so in preparation for her anticipated company. But her wardrobe choice had utterly vanished from her conscience in the late hour, and was replaced by a much more pressing matter: her houseguest was roughly thirty minutes tardy without explanation or forewarning.

The implications haunted her, brought rise to a great, dark fear billowing in the depths of her heart. Had her guest been caught and detained? Was she in some small metal room at the moment, defiantly leering at her captors as they assaulted her with questions to which she responded with evasion or outright refusal to comply? It was too horrific a scene to mentally entertain. And besides, if Aria had been discovered, Tevos would've likely been one of the first people to be notified, especially if Aria had been caught prowling around the perimeter of the heavily-guarded tier of prestigious apartments just a few minutes' stroll and an elevator ride away from the Embassies.

_Nevertheless,_ she contritely thought, _this was an awful idea from its very first inception. Absolutely awful._

Pure dread rose from her footfalls in near-palpable amounts as she walked the line dividing her apartment's main sitting room and its kitchen. The lights were off, communicating to all patrols that she had gone to sleep long ago, and the only illumination to find her body and grant her operable vision was pouring through the window mounted above the kitchen's sink, supplied by the heavenly nighttime ceiling of the Presidium's torus.

Originally, the instructions Tevos had passed onto Aria contained the best model of action she could possibly contrive. Aria left the Citadel after their meeting as planned, but loitered right outside Citadel traffic before reentering under the false identification of a Spectre-owned vessel. During heavily classified operations, such agents were traditionally issued special authorization codes to be transmitted from their ship's central computer to Citadel Control, who would relay the request for docking straight to councilors for approval. If the councilors were not expecting returning Spectres, permission to dock could merely be denied and Citadel Control would default to handling the matter. But in this case, Tevos saw to it that Aria was granted approval.

When presented with this plan, Aria naturally inquired about the other councilors becoming aware of the unanticipated, supposed Spectre arrival.

"Unlike the set of councilors you met years ago," Tevos had replied with the smallest of smiles, "these ones like me. They will defer to my appraisal of the matter, particularly because I am the one primarily presiding over the recent incidents."

From a successful dock, Aria would clad herself in the combat-issue C-Sec armor Tevos had arranged to supply her with prior to her initial departure, and then she would proceed to mingle in the ocean of blue officers before meandering off when approaching the Embassies. Once there, Aria would find herself in a zone restricted to those guards specifically appointed to monitor the upper-class housing of dignitaries, celebrities, and moguls, and would have to utilize every ounce of discretion contained within her body to reach her destination undetected.

Although the councilor's plan was lacking a bit in simplicity, it presented to them the best odds of success, and so Aria conformed to it but not without first commenting on how Tevos's _plans_ never seemed to play out as initially designed. Tevos found a little humor in that grim note when they were still safely in her office, but in the present where she paced and fretted in tortuous, solitary limbo, she could no longer fathom laughing at such a tasteless and vulgar quip.

There came the sound of two taps on the window. Tevos immediately turned in the direction of the source to see a dark silhouette perched on the sill outside, helmet absent to reveal the sight of an asari profile whose gaze was turned outward, monitoring her surroundings for any patrols.

After hurrying into the kitchen, Tevos swiftly unlocked the window by a dually biometric and ID-keyed lock. The click drew Aria's attention, and a moment passed wherein their eyes met with equal urgency and simultaneous relief at their escape from peril. The very instant the window was lifted open and Tevos had stepped out of the way, Aria fastened her fingers around the top border of the frame and swung herself through the opening in a single, smooth motion. The soles of her boots hit the kitchen's tiles, followed by the muffled thud of a valise released from her grasp and brusquely deposited onto the floor beside her.

Tevos closed and locked the window again, then beheld the fusion of contradictions stranding before her—this sentinel of Omega clad in the asari-tailored uniform of the Citadel's security force which encased her form in a near-perfect fit. Illness pervaded the councilor as she remembered that she alone was responsible for authorizing this... _desecration_.

Ignorant—or apathetic—to Tevos's grievance, Aria surveyed her new surroundings, only pausing to dust a leaf off her forearm. It fluttered down to the tile. "Well, that was glamorous," Aria said in a tone so flat that Tevos could scarcely determine whether the comment was sarcastic or sincere.

Instead of throwing her time into the vain abyss of trying to interpret Aria's words, Tevos asked her at once, "What kept you? Were you seen?"

The other asari scoffed at the notion. "No one sees me unless I want them to. I simply spent a little extra time monitoring the patrols and memorizing their routes." She began removing the plates of blue and gray armor encasing her arms, systematically pressing her fingers into latches that released the sections before peeling them from her limbs.

While Aria busied herself with that task, Tevos uncrossed her arms at last and steadily exhaled. "Okay," she said, unable to effectively hide her frazzled, almost breathless state. "Rules. There will be no smoking in my home, you must leave all firearms on the counter here, please remove your boots before stepping onto any carpeting, and—"

"Tevos."

The sound of her name jolted her out of her mental checklist. Aria had ceased removing the armor, now peering at her through the dim light with an indecipherable expression.

"You need to stop succumbing to worry," she said as she resumed her actions, pressing her fingers into a tiny release on her upper side to sunder the breastplate for removal. More of the black, full-body undersuit worn beneath its protective cloister was exposed.

"Stop worrying?" Tevos repeated incredulously. "With every passing moment I recklessly spiral further into this condemnable _tempest_ , and you think I should stop worrying about it?"

"That's what I said," Aria coldly replied. Shin guards clattered onto the tile. "Doesn't solve anything, doesn't improve anything. Only makes it harder to focus." She straightened out her back, now standing at full height again after rising from attending to her legs. It was a relatively odd view—to see Aria separated from her jacket and corset, now dressed in something so simple and devoid of her extravagant preferences.

The councilor nodded at length, finding reason in Aria's words and conceding to them. But of course, the act of shedding her worries would prove to be much more difficult in practice.

Silence persisted between them while Tevos recollected and organized her thoughts, her line of sight drifting from Aria to the murky angles and corners of her small kitchen, and back again. "Have you eaten lately?" she inquired, instinctively exercising the proper hospitality pounded into her conscience since childhood. "I'd offer what I have available."

"Don't worry about me."

"Very well," acknowledged Tevos. She fought off the growing urge to fold her arms again in discomfort. "Just a drink, perhaps?"

Aria briefly considered the offer before responding with a _yes,_ and Tevos was inwardly grateful that she had. It gave her the excuse to move, to escape their standoff and continue forward with their business.

"Then... come away from the window, please," she told Aria while turning to head toward her cabinets. "You're making me a bit nervous—the prospect of you being seen, specifically."

The Omegan did as requested, but not without seizing the opportunity to wander off into the front room despite lacking explicit permission from its owner. The air was faintly tinged with the familiar scent of her perfume; a soft, enticing, and sophisticated aroma wrapping her shadowy body as she ventured further into the abode. And even with minimal visibility, Aria could see the outlines of furniture glazed in scarce Presidium light, revealing to her their symmetrical, minimalistic shapes. Color was virtually indeterminable, but from what Aria suspected from the night's stain of blue, most of the items in the room were of a monochromatic spectrum primarily comprising black, white, and silvery grays. Overall, there was present a tedious and deliberate optimization of space, yet without sacrificing aesthetic or apparent comfort value, leaving the environment strikingly reminiscent of Tevos's neat and tidy office.

_Otherwise described as boring,_ Aria thought to herself. How could the asari councilor possibly refrain from living fabulously? With all her status and money, Aria had expected a large, luxurious house spilling over its brim with excess, but here she stood in a comparably small albeit well-constructed and well-located alcove fit for someone considerably less well-off than Councilor Tevos. Where was the lavish, thirty-bedroom estate that mirrored the one publicly registered in her name on Thessia?

_Modesty is not infallibly attractive_ , she sourly mused, glancing around the interior. _But this suits you._

Tevos truly was an intriguing person. Careful, considerate, and accommodating toward Aria when they were at peace, but rigid and assertive whenever challenged. She had no reason whatsoever to _not_ be civil and pleasant. But the very instant Aria started crossing lines and invading areas of her prerogative, that temperament was easily and swiftly altered.

As exemplified in their meeting earlier that day, Aria had initially been reluctant to yield any control to Tevos, who retaliated by accrediting Aria's obstinacy to the fact that she secretly felt _threatened_ by Tevos. Yes, Tevos would be an immense threat if they ever broke their alliance. For all Aria's prowess in biotic might, for all her experience in waging battles and toppling regimes, she could never in the perceivable future hope to stand long against the Council if it ever came to that. But what Tevos had accused Aria of was an _insecurity_. It made Aria scoff. Made her bristle in denial and in offense.

Even with that attitude adopted, Aria still admitted to herself that she liked Tevos— _still_ liked Tevos—quite a bit. Bureaucratic orientation aside, Tevos as an individual had always walked softly and quietly, using discourse and holes in the system that bound her to achieve her goals. Blood was preternaturally absent from her decisions, and so far-reaching was her word that she could boldly oppose Aria T'Loak in person without a semblance of fear in her eyes. This... greatly impressed Aria at times. To be looked upon without fear, with implied equity, with _challenge_ , awakened a dormant passion in her core. A pleasant thrill burgeoning from a chasm of lone sovereignty. It was so very uncommon for Aria to find an individual who held so fast against her will.

While Tevos retrieved a pair of glasses for drinks, Aria strode over to the two darkly-hued, low sofas arranged in a perpendicular junction around a square glass table. She sat down in the corner of one, laying a hand down along the arm to examine the supple material beneath her fingertips. As she ran them over the smooth surface, its quality and ascribed expensiveness was revealed to her, bringing a faint smirk to her lips accompanied by the amused thought, _There's your money_. _Invested in quality over quantity, I see. I knew you weren't a saint. And as a matter of fact... I'm pleased you aren't._

"Do you have a preference?"

Aria turned her head, meeting Tevos's eyes as she let her ambiguous question hang in the air.

"Regarding drinks," she clarified, holding a pair of drinking glasses in her hands.

"Anything will do just fine," Aria replied, then returned to her examination of the sofa's arm. All around her lay a menagerie of fine possessions whose simplicity belied their elegant design and composition, as if in subconscious reference to legends of asari treachery; emulated by Tevos's specific selection, purchase, and placement. It was interesting, to say the very least, as Aria found herself unable to decide whether finding comfort in this environment was wise or foolish. If only to reemphasize this unfolding sense of doubt, Tevos appeared beside the sofa with an extended arm, offering Aria her drink.

The latter received and sipped it to identify the substance. It was Thessian elasa, and the taste was unsettlingly evocative of a recent incident which had befallen her. Aria's motions noticeably slowed as she lowered the glass from her lips, staring into the liquid.

"Are you worried about poison this time?" Tevos asked. It was originally meant as a harmless joke regarding the first beverage she had ever offered Aria, but when she noticed its potential to be misinterpreted as a rude and shameless jab at her guest's folly, she prepared to recant her words.

"Tomorrow's headline," Aria said before Tevos could formulate an apology, "'Omega representative Aria T'Loak found dead in asari councilor's apartment after a deal gone wrong'." She turned to face her.

Tevos was at a complete loss for words, once again unsure if Aria had just made a joke or not. Aria's fleeting smirk soon cleared up her confusion. "In other words... I have your trust," she inferred.

"I'm about to tell you some of the most sensitive and well-guarded information I possess," said Aria, still looking upward at the councilor. "If that doesn't say anything to you, nothing ever will."

Between them passed a moment of relaxation. All at once, Tevos felt as if the terrible pressure in her chest had been lifted away, as if she were free to breathe again. The feeling was intimately tender in a way that nearly compelled her to appreciatively touch her guest's shoulder to express pure forgiveness— _mutual_ forgiveness—for all trespasses one had committed unto the other, sweeping them all away and leaving their shared company in a state of immaculacy and something resembling _innocence_. For after all ill words and intent were exchanged, after all actions of selfishness and deception, here Aria sat proudly at the mercy of another soul. It had taken extreme circumstances and exhausting amounts of persuasion, but Aria had rejuvenated their former standings with each other as valuable allies.

"I have a study," Tevos said, forcing her hand to remain still at her side instead of daring to let it touch Aria. "It's a much more accommodating room. We can talk there." She took a step toward the dark hallway, looking back at Aria to politely bid her to follow, and was pleased to see her rise from the sofa without reflexively expressing her need to defy anything remotely resembling an order. But it was _not_ an order—rather another favor, and those had often proven to be far more successful with Aria. Which was also strangely ironic. It was she, after all, who had once firmly dismissed favors as being for the naïve. Favors had veins of gullibility embedded in them. Favors were immature gestures of sincere good will removed from the expectation of reimbursement.

But if a favor could and would be repaid then it was not a favor anymore, but a contractual agreement, which Aria immensely preferred. Nuance was key, and Aria must have been quite sensitive to be able to distinguish.

The more she came to understand Aria, she noticed, the softer and stranger she seemed to appear. At the thought, she spared her companion a glance disguised as a check to see if she was still following, and sure enough, she made out the ominous shape of Aria traveling through the hall behind her. The shadows thoroughly enveloped her, dissolving the otherwise distinctive outline of her body into a hazy smear of shifting black.

"There's a declining step here," Tevos announced before stepping down into the portion of her apartment with a slightly lower elevation, easily navigating without error due to memory. The short hall divided after that point into two rooms. They went right, and once Tevos had led Aria into the study she flicked on the lights to a dim but practical level. The windows were well-blinded, shelves were packed with physical books, a desk held a personal terminal placed upon its surface, and a pair of armchairs faced each other across another small table similar to the one Aria saw in the front room.

What was most striking about this area was the difference in aesthetic temperature—the coldness of black and white was replaced with warmer, richer shades of brown wooden furniture, wine-colored cushions set into the armchairs, and a floor rug lain beneath the table beaming its simple, swirling designs through the glass face above.

Without having to direct her to, Aria took a seat in one of the armchairs, gazing about the showcase of literature in antique form. It was a pretentious array of status symbols only in existence to flaunt their owner's classical intellectualism, as they would be judged by popular culture.

"This apartment," Aria said, expressing genuine curiosity, "did you buy it, or was it provided to you?"

"The latter," Tevos answered as she settled down into the opposite chair, turning her attention to a spot on a shelf beside her. She reached over and selected a datapad from the conveniently accessible space. While she turned it on, she supplemented her brief reply, "This tier is one of a few located in such close proximity to the Embassies and Citadel Tower, containing residences for the more essential dignitaries. We live here only on the privilege granted by our high offices. For example, this apartment was previously the dwelling of Councilor Idras. It's a tradition, to inherit the housing of predecessors, along with all the C-Sec patrols. Of course, we have the apartments refurbished and renovated from time to time, and we are allowed to furnish the interiors ourselves, so there is comparably little evidence of past occupants." She passed the datapad to Aria. "You can transfer your data to this so I can more easily view it."

Aria received the device, but hesitated. "I want this copy completely destroyed when we're done here," she said while accessing her omni-tool.

"I will destroy it," Tevos amicably agreed.

Sufficiently reassured, Aria initiated a download. Once the data had been successfully transferred to the datapad, she handed it back to Tevos, saying, "This is a mass file containing data on everyone currently working for me. Everyone who follows my orders and receives any form of paycheck."

Tevos took it in hand and gazed down at the massive file. "Goddess," she said aloud. "There's... Well, there are more people listed here than I first estimated." She looked up at her guest.

From across the small glass table, Aria appeared a tad more prideful than usual. "I'm not exactly a local small business owner."

The councilor inhaled, exhaled, and returned her eyes to the datapad. She spent a few minutes formulating the most efficient and thorough process she could conceive, hoping to isolate at least a few suspicious persons from the colossal record by the end of the night. "We'll start from the top, I suppose," Tevos decided. "We will manually review those ones, as they would likely pose as the largest threat to you if they should or have dissented..."

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Liselle's excursion was made less solitary by the conversation in her earpiece, although turned down in volume to better focus the majority of her awareness onto her immediate environment. Intense wariness of any ominous creaks in the vent was exercised as she followed the map glowing upon her arm. Few noises had caused her alarm thus far, but one had been pervading her head for a few minutes now, becoming more noticeable the further she traveled. It was that hum again, similar to the one she experienced when first entering the vents, only lower in pitch and singing eerily in a second layer of sound. The sound was constant and unvarying.

She was coming around the exterior of the building now, but her precise location remained unknown to her until she crossed a section where the vent branched off into a short arm to her right. At its end was a fan; curved blades slowly turning and drawing in a steady current of air from the outside atmosphere. A punctuated rhythm of rusty light and thick shadow rolled over her face and body, and she could see the Zeta District beyond the blades—as sooty and dreary as the rest of Omega remained throughout infinite days, frozen like a shell of fiery amber preserving the fossils of the first society carved within its walls. Tiny beads of light flickering in the windows of buildings, others of red, white, and yellow blinking between the spires. The world beyond the vent was another province of her mother's emerging empire, soon to be held under siege along with the districts already burning at that very moment.

She moved on, escaping the glaring distraction and resumed her trek. The hum had stabilized in audibility, accompanying her as she went and instilling within her the superstitious sense of being followed. Liselle ignored the feeling the best she could, glancing at her map to assess how close she was to Calan's office and estimated that she would reach her destination within the next few minutes if she kept on course and maintained her pace. Meanwhile, Rasma and Malak's conversation seemed to be going strong, she noted. They were now discussing events in Zeta District, relating their questions to the guild itself as to cleverly disguise their obvious intent to extract information while simultaneously stalling for Liselle.

There came a groan. Not from her teammates, but from directly beneath her. It was a squeal at first, rapidly descending in pitch until the sound morphed into a gruesome scream of collapsing metal. The bang rattled throughout the vents as Liselle suddenly found the lower half of her body plunging downward, the inertia of the descent pulling at the remainder of her frame while her fingers scraped and slipped against the smooth cold metal, struggling to find something to hold onto before decisively reverting to bracing her hands against the walls. Some leverage was gained, saving her from being completely ejected from the vents, but her legs still helplessly flailed and dangled in the air. And worst of all, she did not know where she was, or if there were any witnesses to the spectacle she had created.

Liselle threw her gaze over her shoulder, still swiftly breathing from her pounding surge of panic, and saw nothing but a dark room. She shakily exhaled in relief, seeing that fate had been so kind to drop her in some utility closet or unoccupied restroom rather than into a pit filled with mercenaries. After regaining her wits, Liselle lurched forward, squirming and straining and floundering like a fish on land to pull herself back into the vent. The edge of the broken metal dug painfully into the front of her rib cage. She ignored the discomfort and lurched again, kicking out her legs in a blind search for a wall—or any stable fixture, for that matter—to push off of as an improvised step.

When she felt her sole catch something Liselle transferred her weight onto the new surface, boosting herself back into the vent, but as soon as her foot left its step it gave out from beneath her. There was a loud clattering of hollow metal hitting the floor, followed by a rush of liquid splattering down with it. And then, all at once, the ubiquitous hum stopped. The moment Liselle pulled herself back to safety, she turned around and held out her omni-tool in horror to investigate what damages she had caused. The orange glow lit the area, revealing a pipe lying in a glistening puddle of water and the empty restroom surrounding it. Evidently, the humming was created by a flow of water rushing through pipes alongside the ventilation system, and after Liselle had kicked a hole in its channel, some sort of automated emergency mechanism had completely shut off the water in the area to prevent catastrophic leakage.

As the girl stared down at the lurid evidence of her trespassing with wide eyes, her mental flurry intensified to nearly unmanageable degrees. On instinct she reached down with an arm. Her hand flickered with a pale blue glow as she lifted the pipe from the floor, diligently raising it into the vent where she grasped it. There wasn't much more time to act, unfortunately—Rasma and Malak could not hold a conversation forever without looking suspect of something nefarious. After hastily bending the broken vent back into shape the best she could manage, Liselle crawled on once again while carrying the incriminating pipe with her.

Her heart was still pounding, practically bruising the interior of her chest as its blood thundered through her head. Such fear was coursing through her, not like any other fear she had ever experienced. Not despair, not anxiety felt toward some contingent turn of events, but fear for her very life. It made her sick to her stomach in undulating waves of nausea. It shook her to the marrow, made her hands tremble, and locked her joints up in chilling terror. Upon falling, she had vividly imagined herself crashing down into the midst of congregating bounty hunters with guns, blades, fists, and tempers. All to break bone and split flesh open, extracting the fragile secrets she held.

She was all alone in the dark vents, and by her own volition. Retreating was not an option, nor was losing her head to the abyss of panic. There was a task to complete, placed upon her shoulders with faith and confidence in its completion. Liselle forced herself to keep moving as the bitter word _pathetic_ circulated her thoughts and drove her forward in pure defiance of it.

Before long, Liselle found another grating, checked her omni-tool, and confirmed that it was mounted right above Calan's office. Her team was still chatting away in her earpiece. She heard Malak chuckle at something. At least _he_ seemed to be having a good time for once, she thought.

Using her biotics again, Liselle pulled the grating out of place, set it down beside her inside the vent, then peeked her head down into the room in preparation to descend. The lights were on in the office, proudly shining off of Calan's possessions. Rich reds, deep blacks, and luminous gold hues were found in imported rugs and chairs—hallmarks of elite batarian taste. And there were cabinets lining one wall behind Calan's desk where his terminal sat helplessly waiting for Liselle's theft.

With her reconnaissance complete, Liselle dropped down, landing on her feet and bringing her inventory with her: the small pack with its lone strap slung over a shoulder and across her chest, and the metal pipe she had hastily abducted from the restroom to cover her tracks. She immediately approached the terminal, waking it from its state of hibernation with a single press of a button on its projected keyboard. At her touch, the terminal promptly requested a combination of ID recognition and the entry of a password, to which Liselle responded by holding up her omni-tool and accessed Rasma's hacking program.

The program was simple and easy to navigate, as Rasma had explained. She established a link between the terminal and her omni-tool, and put the program to work. It presented her with a box of unintelligible code. Liselle recognized the colored mass of letters and numbers as the 'lock' Rasma had mentioned, and remembered that all she needed to do was locate the corresponding match amid the myriad, nonsensical coding blocks. She began her search, sifting through the non-matches for nearly two tense minutes before finding the 'key'. She selected it.

The terminal chirped, accepting the input as its owner's and opened up its archive of files to her omni-tool. The download began, and across the interface of her omni-tool flashed data at incomprehensible speeds as it was despoiled.

"I'm in," she said into her communication piece to alert her team to her status. "Link established and download pending."

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

The councilor-crime lord duo began their analysis in Aria's administration. That specific section of the vast list contained extremely detailed profiles of three other active individuals, and one curiously marked with cryptic letters and numbers designating a status which Tevos failed to make sense of. She saved that one for last, opting to examine Aria's right-hand lieutenant first.

"Zuria Alaris," she read aloud, viewing the photo of an asari accompanying the name and a few lines of basic information. "What can you tell me about her?" She glanced up at Aria while delivering her question.

"This one owns a considerably larger portion of my trust than what I give to most people," Aria replied. "She helped me overthrow Omega's former de facto ruler one hundred years ago."

"It says she was inactive as a lieutenant for nearly that amount of time," Tevos noted, tacitly requesting an elaboration.

"She quit. Being a lieutenant, that is. She went into intelligence for years and has now agreed to return to her position in my administration due to our current... adversities."

Tevos skimmed over a bit more information about Zuria, ran her name, ID, and photo against the Asari High Command database accessed from her omni-tool, and found no matches. With no reason to linger on her profile, she moved on. "Dissia T'Masi," she read. "Anything particularly important about her?"

"She's holding our lines in the Tuhi District right now," Aria supplied after mentally fishing for useful facts. "We're currently eroding the defenses of the factions occupying that territory first before going in full force and seizing it. She handles warfare very well and has an impressive body count."

As with Zuria, when Tevos compared this lieutenant to High Command's list of agents, she found no matches. "Renaga Emaia," she continued on.

"Always useful in a bind," Aria commented, reclining into the armchair and crossing a leg over the other. "Intelligent, quick reaction times, adaptable. She's been on my administration for twenty-three years now and just recently helped me lead the final push into the Kenzo District. We successfully took it that afternoon." She lifted her drink to her lips.

After successfully anticipating zero results with Renaga, Tevos came upon the strangely-marked file. She accessed it to find a photo of yet another asari whose face was adorned with conspicuous, barbarous streaks of angry red. "This one is categorized in your administration... but she is neither active nor employed to you at all." She met Aria's eyes. The other asari was busy tending to her drink, but gradually lowered it after Tevos made her observation as if developing her response to what the councilor would inevitably ask. "Who is this... 'Wasea' character?"

"An old acquaintance," Aria said. "There's still a hole in my administrative positions and I plan for her to fill it."

"But she doesn't work for you," Tevos repeated that important disparity to emphasize her confusion. "Her dossier says that her employer is Jona Sederis. Wasea is an Eclipse officer. First Lieutenant under a... 'Captain Asana' of what they call the Gysia Division."

Aria set her drink down on the glass table. "I've been drafting an arrangement with Jona Sederis and that Captain Asana. Brokering a deal—a transaction, of sorts—to have Wasea transferred to my syndicate without upsetting my current relationship with that group. The Eclipse are widespread, powerful, reputable, and best of all, its founder and I have a mutual understanding. Presently, my deal with Sederis has nearly been finalized and after that I will only need to send a few representatives to present Wasea with my offer."

"So there is something particularly special about her?" Tevos curiously pried. "I wouldn't have expected you to go to such lengths for a potential liability."

From her location in the opposing armchair, Aria shared a wordless stare with the asari councilor for a few long seconds before responding, " _Anything_ has the potential to become a liability. What I do is weigh near-assured gains against conceivable losses. Acquiring this individual will add to both my prowess and security."

Tevos admittedly spent a moment waiting for a second half of Aria's explanation, but when it never arrived, she submitted to her silence and went ahead with her routine comparison. No matches were found, as per usual, sending the councilor's attention onto the second most important sector of Aria's syndicate at the present time: her flock of investigation teams, upon whom Aria relied for information about her enemy. Any censorship or deceitful claims passed on by a team could horribly damage Aria's awareness of enemy advancements or the identity of traitors, and so a comprehensive screening of that branch was deemed imperative. When Tevos began her review, she discovered that Aria had given each team a distinguishing name derived from a uniting theme.

"Team Imorkan," Tevos read, "Urdak, Bindur. The planets of Sahrabarik... Vatar and Sehtor of Kairavamori; Karora and Eingana of the Amada System..." She met Aria's eyes, imploring her to share her reasons behind using the names of celestial bodies located in the Omega Nebula.

"Identification by numbers is prone to clerical error," Aria insipidly explained.

The trial went swiftly, and no correlations between the teams and Asari High Command existed within the first several units she scrutinized. At one point, Tevos found herself wondering if that was fortunate or not. _Fortunate_ because it meant Aria's teams were relatively well-selected from a gargantuan pool of possible double-agents, but perhaps _unfortunate_ because it proposed the possibility of Asari High Command being fantastically good at covering their tracks, and that smuggling Aria onto the Citadel and into the asari councilor's apartment might have been for naught.

"Team 'Eingana'," Tevos continued to read aloud for Aria's benefit, "Comprises Rasma Visiom, Malak Lekahn, and Liselle Kasantis..." She skimmed through their profiles while running her comparison, learning a figment or two about each individual in the process. At first, Tevos didn't find them to be noticeably different than any other previous team she had glossed over, but then she noted the dour footnote at the base of the turian's dossier revealing her connection to Aria's previous right-hand, who had been amongst those assassinated. She felt a small twist of pity and moved onto the batarian. Yet again she found something noteworthy within its text. He too had lost a close relative. A perplexed crease began to form in the councilor's brow at this coincidence—and knowing Aria, _coincidence_ was probably a very inaccurate word. She accessed the asari's file afterward, immediately scrolling down to the bottom to search for a similar story, but none was listed. She scrolled back up to the top.

After viewing so many pictures of diverse people over the past half hour, Tevos had ceased giving them more than a second's glance. This one was no exception to that developing habit, but something compelled her to double-take after attempting to avert her eyes from the asari's face. There was just something about her, something... nostalgic, Tevos decided. Her flesh was a temperate, healthy medium of violet and blue, her features were still soft, unmarred, and amiable with youth, and her eyes... Her eyes were a pale blue, strikingly pretty and very much like Aria's, while only lacking the harsh, cold aspect the pirate queen boasted. After some time spent focusing on the picture, she migrated her attention to the girl's basic information.

"Liselle was born on Omega," Tevos read, and from the periphery of her vision she saw Aria stirring, adjusting her posture in the armchair. Tevos brought her glass up to take a modest sip. "A biotic, self-educated... and... she is fifty-three years of age, posing as a young adult of one hundred twelve." She lifted her head to look at Aria with incredulity. The other asari said nothing, and the only movement Tevos detected in her was a subtle shifting in her gaze from side to side, as if impatiently waiting for Tevos to either comment or return to her work. "She's just a child, Aria. Where does this girl come from, exactly?"

Aria's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, leading Tevos to believe that she didn't completely understand the question. "You don't know who that is?" she inquired, leaning forward and sounding as though the need to ask such a thing was absurd on its own. And it was absurd, at least to Aria. She had expected Tevos to immediately recognize Liselle and make some irritating remark about Aria's parenting style, but judging by the councilor's expression and lack of motive to trick her, Aria arrived to the conclusion that Tevos truly did not know who Liselle was. But that was inconsistent with past events, from years ago during their first meeting and negotiation attempt when Tevos had threatened Liselle's life, and to Aria's face if the councilor had not already been terribly bold.

_Not one girl in a lonely apartment somewhere?_ Aria eidetically remembered, along with the sharp dose of burning rage that always seemed to accompany the memory. So then, had Tevos forgotten about Liselle? No, she wasn't the type to forget anything, Aria judged. With that possibility eliminated, there but lied one more: Tevos had _not_ been referring to Liselle, and her ambiguity had only been another component of the brutal bluffing matches they waged against each other for weeks.

"I've never seen her before in my life," Tevos responded to her previous question. "I can't even recall reading her name anywhere. She has no record in Asari High Command's database, no facial match... Why are you surprised that I do not know her?" She eyed Aria with great suspicion. "Am I supposed to know her?"

With this new information in hand, Aria decisively tailored her answer to serve the continued protection of her daughter. As much as she might have essentially trusted Tevos with her own life for the time being, Liselle was a completely different matter altogether. The risk would not be taken.

"She's a special operative," Aria spontaneously and coolly fabricated a lie. "The girl is a biotic prodigy. I thought your Spectres might have come across her file at some point, but it seems I've overestimated them once again."

Tevos brushed off the insult with ease and opted to focus on admonishing her guest. "A prodigy? Does that still merit sending her into something as dangerous as her current objective? A child is still a child regardless of their talents, Aria. Prodigal ability does not substitute the mental maturity and decision-making skills that define adulthood, and she has hardly even reached that threshold. Goddess, even _eighty_ is not uncommonly perceived as pre-adulthood. Does Liselle have a living mother?"

"I know her mother rather well," Aria stiffly replied.

"And she consents to this? She's letting her young daughter throw herself against Omega's vilest without attempting to intervene?" Tevos lifted a concerned hand to touch her own jaw as she withdrew into thought. "Does she even love the poor girl?"

Aria gently placed her empty glass on the table between them, predicting that if it had spent a few moments longer in her vicious grip it might have shattered into a burst of translucent shards and blood. Once the danger was removed, she calmly spoke, "I don't think love is measured by how closely you clutch something, but by how much of yourself you're willing to sacrifice for its freedom."

Tevos considered the truth of the remark, but was driven to reply, "A bit odd, coming from you. Does how you hold Omega not suggest otherwise?"

"I don't _clutch_ Omega," Aria argued. "I don't clutch, and I don't own it. No one does. And no one ever will. I eliminate everything that threatens what Omega stands for, and everything that threatens my success in that endeavor. I am Omega's exalted groundskeeper and I have given myself completely to its preservation."

A great silence lasted between them. Tevos watched her closely, witnessing Aria's permanent air of superiority and tenacity. There was a time when she and Aria would spend an hour or two garrulously chatting about nothing and everything in her office long ago, she recalled, and their conversations—despite their aimlessly wandering nature at times—had always produced exotic ideas from a perspective so different from her own that she soon found their discussions invaluable. Never had she walked away from Aria without spending a moment reaffirming her understandings of the galaxy, and on a few occasions reevaluating misconceptions or assumptions which Aria had savagely dissected before her eyes.

But here Aria sat trying to educate Tevos about _love._ It was awfully silly, and maybe even a little sad, to consider the idea of someone like Aria T'Loak knowing more about love than she did. Tevos did not know if Aria's definition was accurate, and she wasn't quite sure if such an arbitrary concept could even be absolutely defined, but like previous conversations Tevos found herself seriously contemplating the proposals handed to her. But how could Aria's claims be valid? She was so selfish, so alien to charity, and she was someone who had ended countless lives without a second backward glance and probably without ever suffering the vengeance of nightmares. And yet... she could know selfless _love?_

_Mercy,_ Tevos offhandedly thought, _There is mercy—and dare I say affection—in Aria's heart, reserved for the innocent and those who only crave freedom. Those who only desire opportunity and choice. And she exists to grant those things through the medium of Omega, regardless of her methods, and what may come after. You are still so strange to me, Aria._

"There may be wisdom in your words," Tevos conceded, "but you must promise me not to encourage children to partake in your business. If it rests upon their choice, I suppose little can be said against it. It would simply mean a lot if you reassured me that you do not actively recruit mercenaries—and not just asari—who wouldn't even be considered old enough to own property under Citadel standards. It would greatly mend my conscience."

Aria shifted forward in her chair and clasped her hands loosely together, illustrating the honesty of the reply she was about to give, although it seemed to be in exasperation. "I'd rather not have children fumbling their duties," she said. "I'm not here to babysit anyone, and hiring children would only cause me constant headaches and botched missions. Liselle Kasantis is an exception and I don't plan on seeking out duplicates of her rare situation."

Tevos hesitantly nodded, and fell into a long period of silence while continuing to examine the remainder of the investigation teams, only broken by scarce questions and the sound of her glass being set upon the table exactly once. The questions dwindled as time went on, soon rendering Aria's input unneeded. Without the obligation of answering the councilor's inquiries to demand Aria's undivided attention, she allowed herself to disconnect from the dull present and instead spent a while inside her thoughts, watching the light adjustments of Tevos's body whenever she moved her fingers across the interfaces of the devices she held, and when she turned her head to shift her attention from one to the other. And somehow, the shape she held her shoulders in was unaffected by every motion she made. Tevos was exceptionally good at that, Aria had noticed over time. She kept her frame professionally positioned no matter the occasion, with her head maintaining a level, proud angle when addressing any guest. Yet still those shoulders—paradoxically—were the most expressive feature of her body despite their goal of conveying indissoluble dignity to all their witnesses.

Aria had never encountered a dialect of body language which she could not decipher. The revealing nuances manifested in the way Tevos would subconsciously alter the angle at which she held her shoulders in accordance to her current mood. Irritation, discomfort, dismay—all were detectable to the keen eye. To Aria, it was a lovely little shortcut to judging what Tevos was probably feeling at any given moment, and at this very instant, by Aria's observation, Tevos seemed to be at ease. Oddly so, for the work she was conducting would have driven any normal soul to unshakable concern. Perhaps then Tevos had taken Aria's advice from earlier that night, and had successfully utilized it to clear her head and heart from anxiety; a significant improvement from that morning, when Tevos had been constantly enduring wave after wave of distress originating in both the situation with Asari High Command and from Aria herself, particularly when the Omegan had expressed her reasons for staying silent about their past for years and years.

Tevos's announcement confirmed—in one question—all her prior, blatant allusions to her true position on the matter which Aria had detected, but was hesitant to believe.

_I didn't have time for it_ , Aria had thought, void of passion. _You think I had time for this? Me? Don't be a fool. And I would've expected you to be vehemently opposed to getting too attached to your diplomatic correspondents in the first place._ _It's almost appalling that you'd relegate yourself like that, that you'd remind me so vividly of your political nucleus—so prone to publicly asserting all that you are not, only to practice it in secret... It's not even so much that by itself. It's the fact that you expect me to share leadership with you, when you can't even dismiss something so forgone, so inopportune... It shows a detestable lack of reason._

The message Tevos had mistakenly sent her the other night was understandable. Just an innocent and amusing fantasy generated by alcohol. Many people felt amorous after imbibing one too many glasses, and the councilor was not immune that effect. Aria never expected her to be. But for those fantasies to persist _after_ the haze of wine had faded from her thoughts... Aria did not anticipate that. She did _not_ anticipate that, not from Councilor Tevos, who had so often established a defined and unequivocal set of boundaries that would not be crossed again after their infringement. _  
_

Aria did not dislike Tevos. She resurrected that stable fact from a pit of inner chaos. She _liked_ Tevos, very much so at times, and it was now becoming obvious to her that a high opinion of Tevos had also been a major contributor to her less-than-benevolent statement that morning. To see the only politician she had ever been fond of suddenly _change_ , suddenly regress to absurdities, had made something inside Aria dreadfully wrench like betrayal _._

In retrospect, the comment Aria had made as an expression of her contempt should have been withheld. It was unwise to antagonize Tevos during these times, and it was not all that inherently awful for Tevos to have held some lasting interest in Aria, as there were plenty of times when a degree of desire and fascination was reciprocated. But what had kept her from entertaining a prolonged interest and allowing it a seat at the forefront of her mind was a simple matter of convenience. Undiluted _convenience_ had been the master reason for Aria's false amnesia—for with a galaxy between them, an attempt to pursue Tevos in any respect other than endless rivalry would be a childish, illogical, and impractical endeavor. The whole thing was better left forgotten, abandoned there in the asari councilor's office where it would remain lost to eternity.

But... convenience had returned, removing the only deterrent Aria had recognized.

Tevos looked up, meeting Aria's stare and not seeming to take offense at the likelihood of being observed for quite a while. Her eyes finally diverted to the two empty glasses set on the table. She set down her datapad before dismissing her omni-tool and rose from her chair, taking both glasses in hand, and turned back to Aria. "Would you care for any more?"

Aria paused before answering, closely monitoring Tevos for cracks in her relaxed demeanor, and when she found none she replied, "No thank you."

From within the councilor bloomed visible pleasure at her guest's good etiquette, evinced in a faint, gratified smile. She left the study, and consequently left Aria alone as well. Aria's line of sight followed her departure, watching as the pale robe wrapped around her body eventually became swallowed by the hallway's darkness.

She was left to ruminate anew, rising from her chair and acting upon her deeply-set instincts to know more about her environment and its owner. She picked books from their shelves, listlessly flipping through their pages all in one go to watch flickers of countless asari characters flash by from cover to cover. Something was tugging at the edge of her mind. A restlessness, a dissatisfaction with inaction. She flipped through another book, thoughts idly entertaining recollections of the councilor and considering their projection into the present.

After returning the books to the vacant slots their absence created on the shelves, Aria ventured over to the exit of the study, curiously peering out toward the room right across the hall—Tevos's bedroom. She didn't even attempt to contain her impulse. Aria strode into the area as if she owned it, casually taking a look around and briefly considering turning on the lights to better view Tevos's living situation. She only decided against it when a certain piece of furniture caught her eye.

Aria sat down on the edge of the bed, laying her hands upon the sheets on either side of her body. The fine silk caressed her palms and fingertips as she smoothed them over the material, testing its quality against everything else she had closely examined in the apartment. She was not disappointed. The affluence imbued in every minuscule stitch felt delightful against bare skin—a sensation which sent Aria into a different plane of analysis, this time shamelessly venturing into the realm of _application_. But before she could properly develop any ideas of a particularly carnal nature, Tevos's silhouette had appeared in the doorway.

Her presence was accompanied by a quiet exhale, illustrating her disapproval at Aria's migration to her bedroom, which was not only an unsanctioned trek but also an invasive one. Following her sigh came a dismissive remark, contradicting her expressed discontent, "I suppose I'm not so surprised. Actually, I admit I might have even been disappointed if you hadn't."

Aria made no reply. Instead, she tranquilly watched her from her comfortable perch on the bed with tiny hills of creased sheets rising between the spaces separating her fingers.

For a moment longer Tevos remained standing in the doorway, laboring to better comprehend the sight of Aria stationed on her bed—quite possibly the most private and sacred area of space she ritually occupied. There was an eerily surreal quality about the sight, and all too abruptly, Tevos's throat felt unnaturally dry. "Well," she said at length, "come on, then. We should resume our work. I'm going to run the rest in an automatic comparison alongside the Asari High Command database. It will take only a few minutes, I anticipate, and then you can be on your way back to Omega."

"You were doing such a great job as a host until you said that," Aria said, pretending to wince but allowing a revealing smile to bleed through the expression. "Kicking your guests out is _terrible_ etiquette."

"So is overstaying your welcome," Tevos replied, reflecting the same good humor beneath her statement's thin veneer of sincerity. She turned around, orienting herself in the direction of her study with the intent to return to work with Aria in tow, but after she took a few steps, she realized that Aria hadn't moved at all. She cast her gaze over one shoulder to assess the other asari, whose position was as she had expected—still complacently seated upon her bed.

In response to Tevos's questioning look, Aria gently said to her, "Come here."

She was instantly frozen in place by the simple sentence, green eyes locked in a returned stare made heavy and alarmed by her surprise. She knew those words too well. They rang in the confines of her head and heart with the potency of fear, experienced as a familiar splicing of reciprocated allure and panic. After recovering her ability to speak, Tevos swallowed and cautiously asked her, "Why?"

Aria appeared as if she was about to shrug, but the action dissipated into a curious alternative; a vague shifting of her shoulders that neglected to convey a distinct message. "I want to talk to you," she decided to say at last.

"You can talk to me right here," Tevos immediately objected, lifting her chin a few degrees to better communicate her resolve.

Aria was entertained. "Come sit with me a while," she insisted, disregarding the rueful pursing of the councilor's lips and continued pursuing what she ultimately had in mind. "We won't be long. What's a few minutes of conversation when we're already so late into the night? Might as well indulge a bit."

"So you can do what?" Tevos asked, holding her own arms as she addressed Aria. "So you can tell me exactly what I want to hear from you?" She suddenly felt... betrayed. She had only recently forgiven Aria, in a sense; choosing to shed her animosity and dejection in order to nurture a more productive and peaceful relationship in place of the ill, detrimental one they previously maintained. And to her satisfaction, it had shown major signs of fruitfulness as proven in the way they communicated so easily and comfortably over the last hour or so, free from what web of chains had entangled them in rivalry. All efforts taken only for Aria to selfishly ruin it within the span of a few seconds, ripping open neglected wounds that Tevos had just started to tenderly stitch.

And Aria said nothing, entrenched within her usual aloofness.

"So you can do what, Aria?" Tevos repeated, demanding an answer. "So you can convince me to let you touch me?" She sounded as if she found the idea to be ridiculous or otherwise impossible. "And to what end? To continue attempting to manipulate me? Or have you devised a brand new use for me?"

"Those are rude accusations," Aria calmly remarked, smoothing out the lightly-disturbed sheets beside her with an idle hand.

"Rude, perhaps, but true," the councilor coldly stated. "Silence corrodes. It rots. If you thought it could somehow serve you, you were wrong. If you wanted to harvest any interest I took in you, it would've immensely done you better to properly cultivate it."

"Oh, I see," Aria said in understanding, her voice somewhat roughened by its low volume and provocative lilt. "You wanted me to give you attention. Poor thing..."

Tevos frowned at the condescension, a faint dash of violet chagrin appearing on her cheeks. "That's not what I'm insinuating."

"Then what are you insinuating?"

"I meant to say that if you ever desired to partake in... _this..._ or if you wanted to use this to your advantage, didn't it occur to you that it might have been necessary to instill more of an incentive in me?" Before she had even finished her elaboration, Aria had risen to her feet. When she began to approach, the councilor briefly considered backing away, but ultimately decided against faltering in any respect.

Aria leaned forward, bringing her face to hover beside Tevos's, and gently said to her, "That still sounds like you wanted my attention."

Tevos said nothing.

"If I'd known," Aria hummed against her head while letting her hands come to rest upon Tevos's hips, "I would have dropped everything on Omega just to come keep you company..."

"You're just mocking me now," Tevos derisively replied, but her breath involuntarily hitched between her last uttered syllables when she felt Aria firmly massaging her thumbs into the delicately pronounced sides of her pelvic bone and the surrounding flesh. For a single exhaustingly long moment she stood captivated by the sensation, parting her lips to shakily exhale what breath remained in her lungs while trying not to allow it to transmute into any audible sound. It felt... _nice,_ but before she allowed Aria to proceed any further, Tevos seized her wrists and peeled her hands away from her body. Aria made no distinct reaction, but Tevos could feel the sheer amusement radiating from her. Tevos released her wrists, trusting her to respect her implicit wishes.

Rather than retreating altogether, Tevos found herself reaching upward, letting her fingertips glide along the outlines of Aria's upper arms still concealed by the black armor undersuit before one palm came to a stop against the curve of her neck and jaw. With her applied touch she bade Aria to remain still and attentive while she spoke softly to her.

"There might be times when I think about... _this_ ," Tevos solemnly confessed. "But that does not mean I am beholden to my impulses. There are times when you say things to me that make me wonder and... and crave, but when I pause to reflect on the entirety of my position, I remember something that invalidates my urge. You are cruel to me on far too many occasions."

While Aria listened, Tevos had begun to caress her neck opposite to the side she faced, communicating a genuine sentiment buried far beneath her layers of rejection. She made to resume speaking, but her words stalled on the tip of her tongue before they could leave her. Instead, Tevos carefully leaned in the few centimeters necessary to bring her lips against the spot directly below the slope of Aria's jaw, and she kissed her.

Beneath her touch she could feel Aria's chest expanding as she slowly inhaled, and when Tevos drew away at last, she moved her face back enough so that she could meet the eyes searching for her own. They were bright and alert, and somewhere coursing beneath the blue irises was a vein of wild lust—as obvious as daylight would be if found suddenly shining into the dark bedroom, but restrained by her legendary self-control.

Tevos's hands came to her companion's face, holding it as she would the face of an archaic sculpture fashioned from the most sumptuous marble. "You're too cruel to me, Aria," she softly iterated. "You're too cruel, too selfish..." She thoughtfully stroked her cheek with her thumb. "You don't mean enough to me."

_You're not worth risking everything for,_ she thought.

In spite of her claim, and perhaps in an offering gathered to dispute it and persuade her otherwise, Aria leaned into the hands cradling her face, bringing herself dangerously close to Tevos; noses nearly brushing as Aria tilted her head and virtually spoke against her lips a confident, sultry vow, "I will wear you out."

Miraculously, Tevos smiled. Although the whole ordeal had tired her, and although Aria's hushed promise mercilessly tugged at something deep within her core, she jocundly replied, "You often do."

Due to their proximity, it was extraordinarily difficult to discern which one of them was responsible for closing the minuscule distance between their lips, but once initiated, Tevos kept her hands in place where they held Aria's face while the latter pressed her fingertips into the thin layers of clothing over her back, possessively pulling her in. So abruptly was she filled with the searing, overwhelming exhilaration of touching another's body in this manner, this coincidence of lips, of hands against skin and clothes. She reveled in it at first, letting herself burn beneath the sensation of Aria's fingers flattened on her back, sometimes brushing over her spine as she luxuriously adjusted their placement to gain a more secure and assertive hold. But there was a malignancy in all this, Tevos realized. Old guilt and shame for betraying her resolution of never again touching Aria in this manner no matter how much she desired to. It corrupted her enjoyment. Every bit of distance Aria eliminated Tevos equally replaced by automatically drawing away, and never did their contact evolve beyond that of an insufficient baiting—a suggestion, a request, a demand—for something far more extravagant, something unbridled and reckless and _selfish_.

It was not to be so. She _knew_ she could not let it be so.

Before long, Tevos had broken free of the grasp and her hands had fallen from Aria's face, who showed her decency by releasing Tevos upon becoming aware of her desire to stop. What was left in them was furious arousal, both hanging onto the edge of something phantasmally lingering on the surfaces of their lips and minds, evaporating away. Tevos began taking steps backward, tentatively calling for the end of what might have come if she had allowed it, and never once took her eyes off of Aria who still stood in the shadows with her posture forever compelling and unmoved, head always held at such effortlessly dynamic angles like a living, breathing painting. And Aria was silent, her expression beckoning the subject of her interests with the sort of allure found only in monstrous and bewitching women of fables. Such sensual oaths were made without a sound, and the further Tevos retreated, the more profusely they seemed to pour from Aria's raw presence.

_You have never been refused before,_ Tevos speculated in mild wonder. Whether that was true or not was unknown, but the curiosity of what followed that event utterly possessed her.

She escaped when her heel touched the carpeting lain throughout the hallway, retreating into the warm gauzy light bleeding from her study. "As I said before," Tevos began, forcing the words from her unwilling throat, "I'm going to finish our work. You're still invited to join me, but you're also welcome to lurk there in the dark if you so prefer."

Tevos entered her study again, containing her urge to fidget as she retrieved her devices and went back to work. She was alone for less than a minute. Aria appeared in the entrance, eyeing her intensely but saying nothing before taking her previous seat. They sat there quietly, and if Aria's pride had somehow been damaged by her failed seduction, she showed absolutely no sign of it. She appeared as if nothing had happened at all, opting to radiate her relaxed confidence and easily-induced ennui, and never did that demeanor falter once, even when Tevos lifted her eyes for a glimpse.

The councilor, on the other hand, displayed some signs of apprehension. She periodically crossed and uncrossed her legs, and whenever she would find both her hands temporarily free when running mass comparisons, she would rub her wrist slowly and delicately as if to soothe the disquieted nerves throughout her body from that single discreet point in its network.

By the end of Aria's incredibly long list, Tevos had identified two individuals in the medial echelons of Aria's syndicate as connected to Asari High Command. Both were asari, and both were registered as active spies, providing adequate justification for a capture and questioning by Aria. In exchange for Tevos's help, Aria agreed to conduct a search for Spectre Neora's body, and to permit a maximum of two Spectres to be present in Sahrabarik at any time.

With their task complete, Tevos escorted Aria to the kitchen where her borrowed C-Sec armor lay. She stood a few paces away from her guest in the night's filter of blue, watching her pull on and fasten sections to her body. Piece after piece, the black undersuit vanished from sight, and the juxtaposition of taut musculature and softer curves was hidden away by inorganic planes of harsh angles and padding. Once Aria was clad in the suit, her posture began again to deceivingly emulate the guardians of the Citadel, slipping into the façade with second-nature ease. With her valise in hand, Aria's eyes then searched the shadows for the helmet; the final and necessary component of her ensemble.

Tevos located it first, lifting it from a forgotten spot against her kitchen's set of lower cabinets. She did not hand it to Aria right away, but carefully placed it on the counter above its previous resting place and turned to face her guest.

Implied defilement of the uniform aside, Aria looked quite good in it.

_More approachable_ , Tevos thought. _Far less daunting._

She fought back a smile. Aria noticed, as usual, and observed Tevos with her imposing intensity.

Now that their business had been concluded, there was no longer a need to perpetuate their shared company. There was no longer a need to sneak about, risking reputation and diplomatic incident for a meeting of questionable conduct. Aria could go home, now that she was armed with her precious knowledge to be wielded against unfriendly agents.

And what about that, Tevos wondered to herself? Why delay her departure, as she was doing at that very moment?

_Is it because I fear the spell of time that may wedge itself between us again?_ she pondered. _Is it because I have no way of knowing whether the next time I see you will be another fifty, or one hundred years from now, leaving all that is still unresolved between us to... putrefy into something even more unwholesome and confused than what we have now?_

It suddenly occurred to Tevos that she profoundly desired to kiss her again, as though to establish a final assertion of where they stood to endure the attrition of unknown ages looming before them. It could be an innocent gesture conveying innocent ideals. A conciliatory reminder of her fondness, the reality of her interest, and her reluctance to abstain. They stood forgiven and at peace, it would say. Petty desires had been acknowledged and denied for personal disparities and obligations to their respective professions... but all was well.

She wanted to kiss her, she truly wanted to, but did not; fearing that if she gave Aria the smallest amount of leeway again she would take it all, which was exactly what she was desperately trying to prevent. To help herself resist the dangerous urge, she turned away, moving to retrieve the helmet from its spot on the counter and mindfully placed it over Aria's head, helping her seal it to the rest of the armor. With the suit complete, Tevos smoothed her hands down the sides of Aria's neck, her shoulders, and away. She could feel Aria's eyes still burning into hers through the dark visor.

_I suppose... with the luck we've been having lately, there's a considerable chance that I will be seeing you again soon. We may be heading into a disaster with Asari High Command, if you learn anything implicating from their agents..._

Tevos stepped back from Aria, allowing her to exit through the window she had arrived in, and after a final exchanged glance she disappeared from sight. The councilor was left to close the window behind her departing guest. She locked it, reoriented her body toward the interior of her apartment, and gave a long, empty sigh. The hour was horrendously late, and there was yet another full day of work ahead of her. Tevos retired to bed, albeit skeptical of her ability to salvage what little of the night remained for sleep. Still she tried, slipping beneath the sheets Aria had perched herself upon just minutes prior, and privately tormented herself by wondering if indulging in an extension of Aria's company would have been all that bad.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Liselle impatiently began shifting her weight back and forth between her feet, closely monitoring the download to her omni-tool as the bar presenting the task's progression steadily filled. She glanced about the office only to divert her attention from the source that was creating an urgent squall in the pit of her stomach, hoping it would dissolve soon. Abruptly, she noticed something odd—the chatter in her earpiece had become superfluous. Not like the clear annunciation of three voices huddled in close proximity, but as if they had relocated into the center of a another conversation. Concerned, she turned up the volume again to try to make sense of her team's location.

_"—and thanks,"_ she managed to catch amid the din. _"Yeah, yeah… problems… the week… payment ready."_

The dissonance stopped, fading into near-silence.

"Rasma?" she asked. "Are you there?"

Roughly ten seconds passed until she received a reply. But unlike the composed, distant tone Liselle had recently begun to grow accustomed to, the turian's voice found her in a low, quick hiss, _"Liselle, we've left the building. We're outside in the alley again—you need to get out of there now! Our talk with Calan is done and he might return to his office any second!"_

Panic struck her anew. Her gaze frantically darted about; to the office door, to her omni-tool where she found the process roughly three-fourths completed, then to other places all around the room within a horrible quandary.

"The download isn't finished!" she announced, beginning to pace around the desk with her eyes glued to her omni-tool.

_"That doesn't matter!"_ Rasma replied. _"Get your ass out of there right now!"_

Her swift pacing persisted, staring at the almost-complete progress bar and silently screaming at it to finish. She had come so far, so very close to success. Only a few seconds separated her from a gloriously fulfilled objective, spitefully mocking her in the way that those units of time seemed to drag on to extraordinary lengths. Liselle's eyes continuously moved from the door to her omni-tool over the rest of the time it took to finish the download. At the very instant when a small window appeared to confirm the task's success, Liselle severed the connection between her omni-tool and Calan's terminal, switching it back into the hibernation mode she had found it in.

She looked up at the vent suspended overhead, and discerned that she would not likely be able to jump back into it without support, for her training had yet to include the practice of biotically-enhanced physical feats like the ones Liselle had seen Zuria and Aria execute. She could always try, of course—but in this circumstance, being so pressed for time and unwilling to allow for the chance of failure, Liselle resourcefully grasped up her pipe of incrimination, slipped it between the strap of her pack and her chest, climbed onto Calan's desk—praying to Athame that her boots were relatively clean—and made a leap for the opening in the vent. She caught onto the edge, eliciting a gruesome creak in the metal, but the system miraculously held her as her body swung forward and back with dwindling momentum. Just as her thrashing to enter the vents commenced, she caught a flash of color from the corner of her eye. The office door's lock had switched from red to green. She shouted within her head in fright, losing her grip at falling back down to the floor with a thud.

Liselle rolled onto her stomach, lifting herself up into a crawl and scrambled to a position behind the desk, anywhere at all immediately out of sight from someone about to enter the room. But that alone would not suffice. Calan would inevitably find her there without a doubt, driving Liselle to throw herself against the cabinets lining the wall, ripping one of their doors open and shoving herself into the space, pushing aside bottles that rattled and clinked in protest.

The moment she shut the cabinet door, she heard the office door open with a click and hiss, followed by the patter of a single pair of footsteps. She had ceased breathing now, listening to the steps in the darkness of her cramped confinement with her legs painfully curled up to her chest. They were drawing closer, closer; close enough to send her heart beating at pace wilder than ever before. Their rhythm broke. A tiny, almost inaudible creak sounded as a chair was sat in, followed by the chime of the terminal being reactivated.

She abruptly remembered the vent. That glaring black hole staring at Calan from above—did he notice it? Was he eyeing it this instant, preparing to investigate; a business that would eventually end in a thorough search of his office? Or was it camouflaged among the countless other blemishes in the ceiling—haphazard metal patchwork, essentially, particularly found in older buildings in this district?

_This whole sector is held together by electrical tape and glue,_ she recalled Malak muttering distastefully while sitting on an inter-district shuttle on their way to the mercenary guild. She ardently hoped the state of disrepair would work to her advantage.

But what now, she thought? Even if Calan detected no evidence of her intrusion, Liselle was trapped. There was no way to escape the cabinets without being seen and attacked.

_"Liselle?"_ she heard from her earpiece. _"Where are you? Are you almost out of the building?"_

She could not answer. Her lips were sealed.

_"Liselle…? Fuck…!"_

Instead of verbally communicating, Liselle turned on her omni-tool again. The orange interface burned through the inky shadows as she typed out a brief message to Rasma: _Stuck hiding in Calan's office. Cannot speak._

She sent it. After she did, Liselle heard Calan begin to talk.

"Yeah, I talked to some new mercs today. They wore decent armor and were packing decent arms, and seemed to know what they were talking about, but I'm still pretty skeptical about skills they claimed to have. They took the nastiest contract we have open… Yeah, that one… No, not Lorhan's. That's only open for loyal partners. Can't risk the publicity, there's a few people we might upset about it. They got the other guy. Yeah. Yeah, I know, I'm probably going to hear from someone in a few days about their bodies being found dumped in a gutter like one of Aria T'Loak's boys. Did you hear about that…? Yeah, all sorts of shit has been happening to her high-rankers. It began when she started pushing into the Kenzo District, if I remember correctly. About time, if you ask me. Whoever's giving her trouble is fucking insane, but I suppose someone has to do it. For all our sakes. When T'Loak starts eyeing Zeta—and I know she will—she's going to annex us and my establishment will go under faster than a turian trying to swim. You know why? Because she'll drain the local market. She'll let her pals from Blood Pack and Eclipse roam around Zeta and our normal clientele is going to gravitate toward them because they're better outfitted, better organized, they've got billions of credits circulating through them, and they'll take up our bounties… Yes, I _know_ what I'm getting into, and don't try to advise me otherwise. I know the risks, but if there is ever going to be a time for it, it's now. These fuckers giving Aria hell could use a hand, considering what they're up against... Yeah, head over here sometime within the next hour. We'll have a drink and talk business."

Liselle listened intently to the call, eyes wide as she all but pressed the side of her head to the cabinet door to hear every word. Her attention was only recaptured by Rasma's voice in her earpiece, speaking gravely, accusingly, and coldly, _"You didn't leave when I told you to, did you?"_

A hand came to cover her lower face in grief. Curses spilled from Rasma, and when she reported the situation to Malak, more arose from him as well.

_"We can't come back to help you, Liselle,"_ she said. _"We've already made our arrangement and we've been waiting outside too long to go back. They'll know we're up to something; our newness to their guild, our immediate acceptance of their best bounty, the length of the conversation we had with Calan... If we go back, they might just decide to drag us into some back room and beat answers out of us. We've done everything we could for you. And since you were so confident in your superior judgement, surely you also had an escape plan. Right, Liselle?"_

She felt sick to her stomach. Calan was still speaking to his contact, and Liselle could hear Malak and Rasma beginning to bicker over what to do about the situation. Their inability to reach a consensus engendered great despair within Liselle's heart as the gravity of her position was accentuated with every second she spent listening. Instead of permitting herself to be driven into another throe of panic, she decreased the volume of her earpiece and tightly shut her eyes, clutching at her folded legs. She breathed slowly, deeply; staving off all approaching tendrils of hysteria and calming her heart's war drum pounding.

She wasn't going to die there, she told herself. She was smart and capable. Independent and brave. There _was_ a way out... just one she hadn't thought of yet.

Tentatively, Liselle pressed a hand onto the cabinet door, pushing it ajar to allow a column of fresh light to pour into her enclosure. She peeked out silently to see the legs of Calan's chair in which he was sitting while working at his terminal. His call with his contact had ended, rendering the man placid and focused on business. Liselle pulled back from the crack of light, using its grace to examine her surroundings. Bottles of alcohol proudly wearing expensive labels were the original occupants of the cabinet until Liselle had so rudely pushed her way into their midst, displacing them so that they were now scattered about beneath and around her. And from the ceiling of the cabinet had been a row of hooks from which other, smaller flasks had been hung—those too knocked from their places and currently lying amongst the other bottles. With her immediate environment known, Liselle suddenly recognized the danger of moving too quickly or too far in any direction. If she did so, there was an awfully likely chance that the bottles would rattle as they settled back down, revealing her presence. But she could not also stay there forever, waiting until Calan left again or went home. He was expecting company within the hour, and Liselle was sitting upon his stash of refreshments.

_Okay,_ Liselle thought. _No problem. Just don't move yet. First, get Calan out of here somehow. Manipulate something? Get his attention onto something outside his office, and make him leave. Send messages? No, he'll trace them... There's really no way to effect anything outside his office. I have his data, but it's not like I can cause something like a power outage or anything with it. If I wanted to hack into the power systems I would have be within a few meters of its central operations terminal... And I have no idea where that is. Jumping out and fighting probably won't end well... He's just one man but he's definitely killed plenty of people before._

She turned back to her surroundings for help, acknowledging them as her only aids in any escape she could devise. Carefully, Liselle lifted a cylindrical bottle from her side, turning it over in her hand while creating a mental list of its properties and possible uses.

There was one that particularly struck her.

Liselle contorted and reached back with an arm, blindly groping for her pack's zipper until she secured it between her fingers. She spent an agonizingly long time opening it to reduce the sound, and once a large enough opening had been created she strained her shoulder to reach into the pack and delicately sift through its contents. She felt what she sought and retrieved it. It was a small roll of gauze, originally reserved for a potential injury and never brought along with this utilization in mind. She unwrapped a bit, used the blade in her sleeve to cut the section, and picked up the bottle she had recently examined. After unscrewing the lid, she stuffed a portion of the gauze down into the bottle, immersing it in the alcohol, then managed to smash the lid back down enough to keep her invention reasonably intact. In all, Liselle made two more objects of identical design before reaching into one of her pockets and pulling out Malak's lighter.

With a few flicks a tiny flame burst to life, dancing harmlessly before her face and awaiting her application. Liselle took a deep breath, silently apologizing to her team for botching the mission, to her mother for potentially meeting her end in such a pathetic manner, and even to Calan, whose day was about to be ruined.

She held the flame to the tail of gauze, lighting it aflame before nudging the cabinet door open enough to roll the bottle out, across the carpet behind where Calan sat, and into one corner of the room. Liselle swiftly repeated the process with her remaining bottles, rolling them out to varying distances to incite confusion of their origin. Once the bottles were out of her possession, Liselle shut the cabinet and became utterly still; listening, waiting for Calan to notice.

Ideally, Liselle's plan was to start a fire, spook Calan into evacuating his office, and then slip back into the vents while the sprinklers came on and neutralized the danger. To her immense dismay, only her first prediction went according to plan. Tongues of fire grew from the rich carpet, steadily spreading out in flickering, crackling arms until the seated batarian heard and smelled the trouble. He jumped out of his chair, alarmed and confounded by the sight of his furnishings catching fire from an indeterminable source. But instead of fleeing, as Liselle had hoped, Calan began trying to stamp the flames out.

When Liselle opened the cabinet again to monitor the chaos she had manufactured, she saw a wall of flames swiftly climbing up the other side of the row of cabinets, crawling in her direction as Calan tried to put out another fire in the far corner. The wood cracked and splintered, engulfed in heat, flames greedily devouring the coating of fine lacquer; yet no rain of water was arriving from the tiny nozzles mounted in the ceiling to extinguish the aggressive advance, to Liselle's great disconcertion.

And then she remembered the pipe, pulling it out of the secure home between her pack's strap and her chest as if startled by its saboteur intent.

She squeezed out of the cabinet as the wall of flames closed in on her location. The moment she stumbled out into the office, Calan caught sight of her darkly-clad figure moving in the periphery of his vision. On reflex his hand darted for the gun at his hip. But before he turned around, and before he could finish his hostile demand of "Who the fuck are—", Liselle had taken one long stride toward him, dodging the encroaching fires while wielding the pipe in her hands like a bat, and swung with all her might. The metal cracked off the batarian's face, sending him straight to the floor where he became motionless.

Liselle let the pipe clatter to the floor, lifting an arm to shield her nose and mouth from the plumes of smoke pouring into the air. She reached down, grabbing Calan by the legs and gritting her teeth as she called upon all her physical strength to drag him away from the fire and toward the door. After slamming her fist against the lock to disengage it, she dumped Calan outside the office, closed the door, and sprinted back to his desk. The smoke had permeated through the air, cloaking the atmosphere in dark grey and threatening to strangle and poison the girl wandering back into its noxious cloud. She began to cough as she climbed onto the desk, eyes stinging and struggling to see the vent through the thick veil. One raspy cough was smothered by her forearm before she jumped for the vents, grabbing onto the opening and eliciting an even louder metallic groan than before. The sound mattered not—she pulled herself back into the system, choking and gasping while venturing further into the vents as quickly as she could in search of cleaner air and an escape.

She retraced her path, carefully crawling over the weak section in the restroom she had smashed through earlier. When she reached the short dead end with the slow-turning fan at its extent, she turned down that route and broke through the fan with a few well-placed kicks. Liselle dropped from the building, crashing down onto the street in blind agony while still trying to expel the smoke from her lungs. She lied on her back, staring up at the dark cavernous heavens of Omega. Involuntarily convulsions of her chest pulled out more rough and painful coughs.

A shadow came to loom over her, followed by another shortly after. She rolled over onto her stomach without delay, reaching for her submachine gun to defend herself, but her action was cut short by an aggressor brutally lifting her from the ground by the collar of her commando attire.

"What the hell did you do?" Malak demanded of her.

They were near the alley again, Liselle realized. However, the leisure to dwell on her discovery was stolen from her.

"There's _smoke_ coming out of the roof!" Malak snarled, fiercely pointing at a spot on the building jutting out from the larger spire it was connected to. Sure enough, a black tongue of smoke was snaking up from the metal structure. "What the fuck did you do, you idiot!?" Using his fistful of her collar, he gave her body a single violent shake as if trying to jerk the answers from her.

She could only gape in shock.

"You just couldn't stop at fucking up our mission in the first place, could you? You just _had_ to make a complete disaster out of all of this, huh?! You're not the only person on this team, you little shit! We've got just as much as you do riding on the success of this investigation. Our jobs, money, reputation, _everything!_ I'm not going to let some asari brat ruin the rest of my life, do you understand me!?"

Liselle frantically nodded, overflowing with fear.

"Malak!" Rasma shouted at him. When she approached, she laid a furious hand on the batarian's shoulder and spoke to him, "Put her down. _Now."_

"Are you joking? This kid _destroyed_ our mission! Do you have any idea how angry Aria's going to be?"

"Yes, and she's going to be even angrier if we're caught hanging around here by the bounty hunters. Let's _go_." Rasma dug her talons into him, communicating her intolerance of any more disobedience exhibited by either of them.

Liselle crumpled back down onto the street after being released. Before she could even recover on her own, however, her turian ally was hauling her back up by the arm, proceeding to drag her along as they escaped from the area. The grip was painful and harsh, but it was nothing compared to the immense shame weighing down her spirits like a lead ball and chain wrapped about her body. Once they had put enough distance between themselves and the mercenary guild, Liselle's teammates began speaking to each other without censorship as they discussed the girl's actions and probable consequences upon reporting back to their boss. With all arguments and insults directed toward Liselle set aside, one conclusion was drawn and agreed upon: the report to Aria would conceal nothing about the mission, listing every reason for their failure and subsequently leaving Liselle's fate to the queen. It was a good resolution, as Malak seemed to think—it saved him from losing face, and a catastrophe of this scale would surely warrant Liselle's removal from their team and her replacement by someone hopefully more competent and reliable. Unlike him, Rasma was unhappy either way. After all, Aria had entrusted her with leading the Eingana team, and there existed a chance where if she had possessed keener foresight she might have predicted this incident and had adjusted her plans accordingly.

Meanwhile, as the frustrated trio sat waiting for the next arrival of the shuttle, Liselle stared blankly at the streets and its bustling people, completely stripped of confidence, drained of her visions of success, and feeling more soulless and smaller than she had ever before in her life. She wanted to melt into the old bench and seep down into Omega's cold metal bones, never to be found again nor arraigned by the world—by her mother—for bringing such disappointment to her royal lineage.


	12. Familiar Strangers I

Upon Aria's arrival at the apartment that morning, Iaera had instinctively evacuated the kitchen the moment Liselle appeared in the hallway after being summoned, fearing the fallout of Aria's dissatisfaction. The maiden came trudging over to the small dining table with her eyes lowered to the floor, never once meeting her mother's gaze even as she slipped listlessly into a chair opposite from her like some shy ghost and folded her hands anxiously in her lap. As she listened to her mother pace a few steps, undoubtedly busy with the formulation of her terrible lecture, Liselle began to fidget. She knew Aria was angry. She knew that by the end of their talk she would be removed from the investigation, and sentenced to some tortuous spell of confinement inside the apartment until further notice—where Aria could keep an eye on her, and where Liselle could cause her no more headaches. Although she _knew_ what was in store for her, nothing instilled more dread within her gut than anticipating the knife-like words through which Aria would express her immense disappointment. She braced herself when her mother's idle steps finally ceased.

"When I selected your teammates," Aria began, breaking the silence at last, "I chose people with an optimum balance of loyalty along with combat skill and intelligence. I wanted to make sure you would be in good company if something ever went wrong. And I was right."

Liselle furrowed her brow at the table.

"They did all they could to give you the best chance at success," her mother continued. "They followed my orders impeccably, and gave you all the information necessary for you to carry out your assigned task." She placed her hands onto the table, leaning forward a bit to demand Liselle's eye contact. It was promptly and obediently given. "Failure does not please me, Liselle," she said. "But _disobedience_ is something else entirely."

Her mother's glare brutally revealed all the anger that her calm, ominous tone had partially smothered, causing the girl to shrink in apprehension.

Aria pushed away from the table, not once severing her gaze from her daughter's as she folded her arms and paced again. "Rasma Visiom's report vividly illustrated how you _burned_ your way through Denar Calan's office to escape after remaining there for longer than you were told to. Not only did your team fail the mission, but your actions directly led to the mercenary guild becoming aware of someone after their information, and they're more than likely upgrading security and transferring files to remote locations _as we speak_. In further consequence, siphoning their future records into my own networks is now impossible without entirely starting this operation over. And on top of _that_... you have embarrassed me. It was I who organized these teams and decided that you were amongst the elite only for you to horrifically fumble simple orders. Do you know how that makes me look, Liselle? Like someone who doesn't know what she's doing? Faulty judgement—faulty leadership?"

As Aria went on, her voice steadily rose in volume and in displeasure. Liselle reciprocally withdrew, a wince developing in her face as shame festered in her heart. She was only granted temporary reprieve when her mother paused. Aria had looked away from her, turning her eyes toward the floor in furious thought while her hands slid out of their cross and stiffly rested on her hips instead. After Aria had tamed and sorted out her silent rage into expressible terms, she met Liselle's eyes again and said bitterly, "I have given you _everything_ you've ever needed since the day you were born. I spent months away from the public eyes of Omega to protect you before and immediately after you were born, I made sure the places you lived in were spacious enough for comfort but inconspicuous enough for safety, I frequently visited you while you were growing up, I hired the very _best_ people available to take care of you, and I have bought you _libraries_ of books and supplied you with the _best_ necessities and the _best_ biotic tutor... And this is how you repay me." She held her jaw tightly with fury as she carefully placed her hands on the back of the chair in front of her, and began again, "Iaera has told me that when you are not out on missions, you brood and mope around your room all day. As if you're being cheated out of something you've been entitled to."

Liselle timidly began to object, "I just—"

" _Shut your mouth_ ," her mother ordered. "You're not speaking right now. You will _wait_ until I say you can."

She shut her mouth.

"I am not raising an entitled _brat_ ," Aria said with enough venom to nearly bring tears to Liselle's eyes. "You're far too old for this. _Far_ too old for lectures of any sort, and yet you still force me to give them. So what did you think, Liselle? Did you think that just because I'm your mother you can do anything you want, however you want? Did you think that whenever you find a little too much trouble I'll come and fix everything for you? Well it's time to fucking wake up. If you were anyone else, there would've been a considerable chance that you'd be fired or liquidated for this degree of insubordination."

Liselle looked away again, biting her tongue to resist the urge to cry.

"Omega isn't going to open its arms wide and welcome you in," said Aria. "It's going to try to _kill_ you, Liselle. And it almost did."

At the sudden drop in hostility and a peculiar rise of softness in her tone, Liselle returned her eyes to her mother's. As always, far beneath the molten anger boiling in Aria's expression, there lied a perpetual trace of love; fixed and unfaltering despite all that her daughter had so recklessly blundered through and ruined. The undercurrent of despair lining her mother's words when she acknowledged the possibility of Liselle's death was the final tug that brought forth the tears welling up in the girl's eyes, sending them down her cheeks and to her chin. With a pitiful sob strangled from her throat, she said to Aria, "I wanted to show you that I could do it."

"I wanted you to show me the same," Aria replied. "But you didn't."

Liselle wiped away her tears with her palm, sniveling as she did.

"You're not stupid, Liselle," her mother told her. "You've proven that to me. You've shown me signs of ingenuity, in the way you quickly designed that escape route for yourself with very few resources available to you at the time. But if you continue gambling _as if_ you were stupid, it just might all go to waste. And neither of us wants that." She was quiet for a moment, watching her daughter lightly quiver with grief before saying to her, "Stop sobbing. I don't want to hear that. You get a hold of yourself right now and lift your chin, do you understand me?"

She squeezed her eyes shut and nodded, raising her hands to cover her face and breathed slowly and deeply over the course of a minute until she had stopped weeping. When she had the worst under control, she lifted her head to see that Aria had sat down across from her. Liselle still felt horrible. She felt inadequate, utterly eclipsed into insignificance by her mother who had always seemed so mechanically perfect in all that she did, skillfully overcoming everything the universe had ever thrown at her and emerging even stronger and wiser than before. Nothing seemed to slow her down. Nothing seemed to hold her back or trouble her for long. Every major adversity was just a new game, a new challenge, a form of entertainment, an opportunity for growth; and while Aria flourished with natural ease, Liselle remained stationary and chained to the ironic snare of needing experience to persist on Omega while simultaneously needing Omega to accrue experience. The thought ate at her, bereaved her. Cautiously, she asked Aria then, "What were you like when you were fifty?" She gave a final sniff while banishing the last of her tears away, trying to control the lingering tremble in her voice. "I mean... have you always done everything right?"

The question claimed Aria's attention. She considered her answer, blankly eyeing Liselle with lucid alertness, then finalized her composed reply. "Often," she responded with honesty. "But not all the time. And when I don't do something right, I go out and correct it, and I'm sure to do it right the next time, and every time afterward. If you're looking for my advice, it's this: you have a long time to live, Liselle. There are a lot of mistakes you haven't made yet, but when you make them I don't ever want to see you give up or run away."

Liselle's silence communicated her understanding.

"This _mistake_ you've made only reinforces the need to have you out on Omega," Aria decided. "You need to learn more, and this is the only way you're going to do it."

She looked at her, confounded. Perhaps Liselle would be transferred to something easier, something menial? Something that didn't matter as much, something comparatively out of the way yet still providing Liselle with much-needed experience? Although the sting of failure continued to strike at the tender spots of her conscience, her mother's mercy was soothing. Whatever was in store for her would be far better than being decommissioned altogether.

Aria rose from her seat. "You're incredibly lucky, you know," she said. "If you hadn't decided to stay and secure the data, I wouldn't have known about Calan's plans to send mercenaries out to eliminate some people I'd much rather keep alive."

Liselle stared in extended disconcertion.

"I sent out my people to guard the targets shortly after reading your team's report and reviewing the data you retrieved," said Aria. "Earlier this morning they intercepted a few of Calan's hirelings, disposed of them, and ultimately protected my interests. If you hadn't gotten the data, Liselle, some of them would've probably been dead and I would've lost several connections and points through which I monitor my known enemies. I have you to thank for that. Now—because your misguided actions happened to contribute to something more lucrative, I've decided to keep you in the investigation. The rest of your team has already been notified, and I will likely have something else for you to do by the end of the week."

Liselle came dangerously close to crying again. She managed to hold back her tides of relief, however, and gave her mother a leveled response instead; a nod, a grateful nod, communicating elation, understanding, and a promise not to fail her again.

With her speech complete, Aria saw no other reason to remain in the apartment and made to leave. But before she so abruptly left Liselle where she sat alone at the table, Aria approached her side, paused to look at her, and her gaze was returned by her daughter's bright, young, uncertain eyes, still glistening with the remnants of despair. She laid a hand on the girl's shoulder, and kept it there for a few seconds as if she were preparing to say something more. Her pause dragged on, and eventually came to an end without a single uttered word. Her hand lifted away, falling to her side as she turned and departed from the kitchen, leaving Liselle to stare at the walls in silence, wondering a multitude of things there in the hazy light.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

On the day of the party, a blanket of snow had cloaked the N'Yiria estate in immaculate white dunes, punctured by the surrounding wood of evergreen trees whose branches obstinately held onto their crescent-shaped fans of dark needles.

After their transportation had gently lowered to the grounds, the passengers filed out precisely as traditionally coordinated: two C-sec guards exited first, now wearing somber and fanciful attire over thin armor, concealing their sidearms and shield generators beneath their coats to be utilized in the case of an emergency. Then out stepped the asari councilor herself, taking the kindly-offered hand of the head officer of her personal security, who helped her out.

The turian man performed the same courtesy for Councilor Tevos's two companions as they followed her before he gestured to the few remaining guards in the vehicle to complete their escort's formation. He was a common sight, as Irissa recalled; often found faithfully guarding Tevos's office and leading the bands of C-Sec that would escort her around the Presidium whenever there was somewhere the councilor needed to be. Over the past several years, he and Tevos had developed a friendly bond. Irissa had witnessed many a time where Tevos would chat with the man, asking him about his family and how they were doing, and in return the bodyguard would politely give his answer and inquire about something respectfully non-invasive of the asari councilor's life, such as how she was that morning. Their exchanges were always somewhat endearing, Irissa thought—nurturing of much-needed trust and fondness between the most important asari on the Citadel and the head guardian of her life.

As per ritual, Irissa had listened to them chatting while on their way to the N'Yiria estate. The turian had issued his general question regarding how Tevos was, to which she replied with a small, soft sigh and a truthful, "Decent, considering everything."

While the guard was relatively ignorant of the composite troubles plaguing the councilor, Irissa was not. The past weeks had been positively overflowing with problems and complications; her family's reunion itself alongside Councilor Estulius' risky strategy to shake free of incessant family-based conspiracy theories orbiting Tevos and himself, political blockades erected by the Batarian Hegemony's high powers who at the time were preventing any action to be taken on Camala, and possibly the most baleful issue of all, Aria T'Loak and the turmoil that often seemed attached to and entwined with her very soul, brought with her everywhere she went and engulfing other people's lives with uninvited chaos.

What Irissa had particularly observed from Tevos's eclectic mosaic of troubles was that she had been acting strangely since her recent meeting with Aria, marked by occasional sessions of staring emptily off into space with dolefulness in her eyes, as if she were abruptly overcome with a weariness usually reserved for someone at least two centuries her senior. As her friend, Irissa was duly concerned for Tevos, and her dislike of Aria T'Loak had proportionally magnified. What had that barbarian said to her, Irissa intensely wondered? Had she threatened her, or coerced her into some dastardly plan by holding something dear to Tevos for ransom? The confidential nature of their discussions barred Irissa from the answers.

Of course, she understood the level of secrecy necessary to deliberate and consider their options without upsetting the public or agitating relations with other governments, but Irissa had _never_ felt comfortable with the idea of leaving the asari councilor alone with Aria. Even with every C-Sec unit in the Embassies on the highest alert, all eyes transfixed on Tevos's office and ready to intervene the very second she alerted them of danger, still the situation created horrible anxiety within her mind throughout the day. The Omegan crime lord had made a promise of peace, yes, but what were treaties in reality aside from pixels of signatures on a screen—a pathetic feigning of stability where there was none to be found in the first place, only invented to help the signers sleep a little better at night?

_My poor friend,_ she mused as they started to tread upon the lightly-snowed pathway. _To be the lone target upon which Aria T'Loak preys… And we work to save her? And you are the strongest advocate of this goal, despite the stress she brings you, despite the verbal abuse you must endure…? Something is not right. Something feels amiss. I remember reading something about this—a certain psychological phenomenon. A type of traumatic bonding where a hostage victim, or the victim of some other type of abuse, develops an irrational attachment to their aggressor and may even deign to defend them._

Irissa sadly looked at the councilor, taking in the sight of her expensive dark coat and the grace of her steps as she strode beside her turian guard; and she arrived to the conclusion that she would probably despise Aria T'Loak forever. She looked away, busying herself with more peaceful thoughts.

It had been no small number of years since Irissa had last set her feet upon snow. The frigid stuff was not as thickly packed on the pathway cutting through the front gardens leading up to the massive estate standing before them, however. It had likely been cleared away some hours previously to make the path more accommodating for guests, only to have a fresh armada of heavy clouds sail in and nullify some of their labors shortly after. And lifting her eyes upward yielded evidence of that last, exiguous snow. Clouds still lingered in the Thessian sky, as Irissa could see—lazy wisps stretching across the canvas of blue and disappearing into the gloomier, distant mountains.

Before their trek brought them even close to the manor itself, and after only having passed through the front gates, the trio and their C-Sec escort were accosted by a lone asari whom they would have anticipated long ago if their attention had not been seized by the environment. When she approached, Irissa immediately beheld in her a faint resemblance to Tevos, especially found in her cheekbones, the shape of her eyes, and her inexplicable air of regal dignity. The transference of her gaze from the examination of this stranger to the councilor revealed a sudden, unfolding light of recognition in the latter's face.

When the finely-dressed stranger opened her mouth, a Kyniasian accent coated her statement far more thoroughly than what Irissa could ever remember hearing on Tevos's words, even when she occasionally slipped into the harmonics of her native dialect on certain syllables.

"You're late, cousin," she said to Tevos.

The councilor instantly donned a look of perturbation. Undivided attention was swiftly upon Tevos, silently and frantically speculating about how she would handle the provocation. From what Irissa vividly recalled, Tevos was not exactly thrilled to be reconnecting with her family members in the first place, and to be received by a relative with passive-aggression so early on in the afternoon would certainly warrant a rebuttal.

Tevos did not disappoint. She lifted her chin at a superior tilt, adjusting the straightness of her posture, and professionally declared, "The asari councilor is never to be regarded as _late._ She arrives only when all other higher priorities on her schedule have been satisfied."

A tense, mirthless moment passed between the two cousins as they stared at one another, both pristine statutes. Monuments commemorating the covert battles of a cold, bygone feud. And then, all at once, Tevos's cousin thawed—now beginning to beam with a jovial smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she comely reached forward with both hands, requesting Tevos's reciprocation of the gesture and said, "You are _centuries_ late, my dear Tevos. We have all missed you terribly."

Confusion flashed across the councilor's features, but upon realization that her relative harbored no ill-intent she was compelled to accept the greeting by cautiously placing her hands into the offered ones. She was pulled into a careful embrace, unable to object primarily for the surprise attached to not having participated in a social action of such familiarity in quite a while. Even her near-sisterhood with Irissa rarely produced affection in mediums other than compliments, humor, and the inclusion of one another in some private thoughts. Tevos looked a tad bizarre, almost uncomfortable or bewildered, as she and her cousin had been separated by centuries and made strangers to one another. The councilor's guards were also looking nervous, Irissa noted.

When the relatives parted Tevos turned back to Irissa and her attaché, standing beside her cousin to introduce her while nearly in a surreal daze generated by revisiting persons who had achieved the existence of a ghost-like memory in her mind. "This is my cousin—from a few relatives over—Farala N'Yiria," she said to them. "Farala… this is Ambassador Irissa Nomasi, with whom I went to university. And this is my secretary, Eleni T'Seta."

Farala shook hands with them both, particularly pausing at Irissa to ask her, "Ambassador Irissa… N'Masi? Did I hear that correctly?"

" _No_ masi," she politely corrected her. "It's a pleasure."

"Ah, I see." Farala folded her hands behind her back. "Yes, quite the pleasure."

While Farala turned away, Irissa slowly migrated her gaze to align with Tevos's, conveying disapproval in her eyes in reaction to the slight triteness in her tone. The councilor fluently translated the expression, then sent back a brief apologetic look and a gentle request for Irissa's tolerance and good behavior.

They moved on from there, with Tevos immediately engaging in conversation with her cousin as her other two additional guests followed. As they walked, carefully crunching through the snow in their heels while following the prints of antecedent guests lain before them, gazes were fixed on the dour manor rising from the bed of white like the mountains far beyond, tracing along the splendid architecture that brought the roof into a silvery vertical crest; and from there its frame swooped down, wrapping the grounds extending behind the main chambers in serpentine glass halls whose membranes of windows were punctuated by arching blue-metal ribs.

"I'm rather excited, Ambassador, " Eleni said from beside Irissa, looking quite pretty in her own newly-purchased ensemble. "I've never been to such a prestigious event before. I still can't believe the councilor brought me along." She paused to receive an incoming message on her omni-tool, swiftly skimming it over to assess its importance. "Oh, I do suppose it's not entirely outlandish, though," she reconsidered as the device's orange aura faded from view again. "Councilor Tevos needs someone to keep her updated while she's enjoying herself. I've been bogged down with her mail over the past few hours, and it's all just harassment from public relations... She specifically told me to ignore those."

"She could've brought another one of her aides," Irissa pointed out. "But she didn't, which probably means that Tevos thought you'd enjoy coming. I know her quite well, you know, and she's not as remote at heart as she first comes off to be—but I'm sure you've noticed that by now, after all these years. So believe me when I say that Tevos definitely brought you as a gesture of her appreciation."

Eleni beamed at the comment, growing quiet again with contentment.

Their group stopped once more a few seconds later when Farala began pointing out features in the gardens to Tevos, describing what additions and altercations had been made to the landscape over the past few decades. While Irissa and Eleni patiently listened as well, the former looked at Tevos again. Her old friend the asari councilor looked strikingly lovely, even when standing beside Farala; the tips of her nose and cheeks delicately stained violet by the chill on the wind, and her body wrapped in dour, wintry black—not the cold of starless nights, but the warmth of heated coal. And past the dainty trinkets of gold and gemstones the color of her eyes upon her wrists, a voluptuous collar stood guard round her neck like a royal frill.

They passed by clusters of people when they moved on, easily cruising through their protean masses with the two distinguished asari at the bow of their company. The islands of guests were all clothed in fanciful attire, a vast exhibit of personal shrines glittering against the drifts of snow and frost-glazed planters bordering the walkways. After stealing a glance around the spectacle of self-worship, Irissa came under the outlandish sense that the councilor had conformed to her family's uniformity of attire in style and in hue as if she had naturally gravitated toward the creation of her ensemble not by conscious volition, but through lasting memories lying dormant in her mind over all the centuries of her life. The visual absorption of the trees surrounding the estate; their long slender bones, their dusky cloaks of needles—their roots, deeply fastened into the icy earth from whence they were borne. It was all there, as though the invitations' dress code had secretly included a few extra lines which only natives to the area could decipher.

Tevos looked… remarkably at home.

Their stroll led them to the base of a series of steps leading up into the estate's foyer, which they began to ascend at once.

"The house has not changed much since your last visitation," Farala informed Tevos as they neared the top. "I suspect your bearings will return to you almost immediately. And, if I might add, a friendly word of warning: just as our family's properties have remained fairly unchanging, so have their owners."

Irissa and Eleni saw their councilor's initial questioning look morph into understanding. They passed through grand doors and came into the foyer whose warmer atmosphere began to replace the chill on their faces. Their group gazed about the wide, open area decorated by superb minimal elegance imbued in the architecture, the sleek furnishings, modern paintings and sculptures strategically installed throughout the manor. Voices rose into the air, carried up by the walls and producing a soft echo. The surroundings were very soothing nonetheless; bathed in faint blue like the interior of a commodious aquarium and emulating the same comforts found when nearby a body of calm water.

While a few servants took their coats for them, a particularly loud verbal commotion had grown from far off into the manor, now growing in volume as the turmoil neared. The group lifted their attention to the mezzanine and found the sight of two asari's heads coming into view, pushing by other guests who might have stood in their path. They were bickering, apparently, even as one began to descend the flight of stairs down to where Tevos and company stood, while the other remained shouting over the banister at her.

"I can't _believe_ you had it published!" The asari from above exclaimed, ripping a silky glove from her hand and wrathfully casting it down at the other. It struck its target, who suffered no physical damages as she turned around again to face her attacker. "To have deliberately generalized an entirely independent branch of thought into parochial _preachings!"_

The asari at the lower altitude proudly refuted, "Oh, you would do well to humble yourself one of these days! You're only offended because you privately adore the persecution. The romance of martyrdom! You view yourself as a drowning victim in a sea of so-called ignorance, and it _enrages_ you to see your higher convictions challenged by the idea of equity."

Farala diligently herded her small collection of guests back a few paces, clasping her hands together in minor abashment felt toward the disruption. She lowered her voice, feeling that it was, perhaps, now appropriate to introduce the quarreling ladies, thinking it a wise method of mitigating the severity of the spectacle. "The individual on the stairs is Laiene N'Vani," she said. Tevos's eyes lit up with recognition, but allowed her relative to continue without interruption, "She is a professor and advocate of theology. And the one on the mezzanine is Nerava N'Yiria. She is... a writer of nontheism."

Without needing further elaboration, all understood the source of the conflict. Eleni in particular appeared the most fascinated; listening to Farala as if she were cautiously documenting the local patrician wildlife. Above them, the bickering continued.

"That isn't the problem between us," Nerava called down to the stairs. "To umbrella nontheism into the category of religion, assigning it the label of a spiritual conviction when it is _exactly not that!"_

Laiene rolled her eyes. "You know, you aren't the only scholar of the subject in the world, Nerava. There _are_ people actively subscribing to your own pedagogy who disagree with you."

Nerava frowned. "You consulted a _historian_ to give his opinion in your article! I have three degrees in philosophy and you chose some philistine historian's opinion over mine?! That, my cousin, is the fully-evolved _epitome_ of confirmation bias. If you told me that a giant disembodied head was orbiting Kurinth, and if I refused to believe it, according to your article that means I have made a religious assertion, just by denying what has been deemed absurd! Therefore you have either purposely distorted nontheism, or you've proven that you don't understand the concept at all." Nerava began to descend the stairs after her relative, who was calmly making her way down to the foyer's polished floor.

"Oh, get off your pedestal already," Laiene demanded in exasperation, laying a hand on the staircase rail to support her trek. "In a vacuum your argument may have held more water, but we operate in a reality where a marriage of the objective _and_ the subjective permeates every niche of philosophy. You cannot escape history and its context, as much as you wish you could. Religion is a fundamental trait of the sapient experience and _any_ conviction about it falls under the same category of belief."

They had only a few steps of the staircase remaining before their feet when both simultaneously became aware of the party observing their debate. The sight of Farala came as no surprise—she and her mother Galieta were hosting the reunion this centennial, after all. But who she brought with her was an entirely different matter altogether. Shock and excitement shone in their eyes, and suddenly the last few steps of the stairs were nearly skipped as they flew down to the foyer's bottom; practically stumbling over one another as they held their gowns' silky fabric away from the floor to grant them superior mobility.

"Oh dear Tevos!" Laiene exclaimed. "Nerava was certain you'd throw your invitation out, but I had a preternatural feeling that you'd decide to come!"

"She means _supernatural_ , of course," Nerava spitefully edited her cousin's remark as they reached Tevos, completely ignoring the guards taking a few uncertain steps forward to stand by their councilor's side.

"By the Goddess Athame," Farala admonished them, "You're both almost matriarchs! I can't believe after all these years you _still_ insist on making a scene at every opportunity. Tevos is no longer our little cousin to be addressed so uncouthly. She is _Asari_ _Councilor Tevos_ and you _will_ give her more formal respect."

"Of course, of course," Nerava conceded. "We are just... overwhelmed to see you, Councilor." The title seemed to have found some trouble when rolling off her tongue, who was obviously unaccustomed to addressing family members with such deference. "It's been so very, very long, and I'm afraid we may have unwittingly invoked a memory of the distant past when we first saw you just now. But your status and circumstance have extraordinarily transformed since that outdated moment. I shall not make this mistake again."

Beside her, Laiene nodded once to convey the same apologies to Tevos, who was observing them as if her mind was off elsewhere for the moment, eyes glossed with foggy thoughts and rich memories. They initially feared that they had terribly offended the councilor. For all they knew, Tevos could have grown into an incredibly different person than her maiden self—someone haughtier, more standoffish in her personal relations, or even a woman of extreme vanity. The most incisive strategy, it appeared, was to view Tevos as if she truly _was_ an individual with whom they had never been acquainted with until that day.

While their worries monstrously blossomed, Tevos continued to run her gaze over their features, then said quietly with all her distraction patent in her slow speech, "The memory that came to me at once, not unlike the one you resurrected upon noticing my presence, was a vision of two little girls tripping each other while traipsing through the woods beyond the estate, and one pulling the fronds of the other's crest until she cried. Little voices issuing the benign profanities of childhood, blissfully ignorant that far more effective curses would become available to them in time."

As a salve for their disconcertion, Tevos pursed her lips slightly to control her urge to smile, then held out her hands for them to take. Their fears dissipated, a warm greeting was exchanged as well as an introduction for Irissa and Eleni. The two newcomers assimilated into their group as they moved on, traveling through the hall stretching on beneath the mezzanine and its stairs, footsteps and words gently echoing back to them, and wandering into pockets of perfume hovering in heady orbs around other guests. They encountered a variety of Tevos's other relatives, including Farala's mother Galieta; a very old and regal matriarch whose presence even humbled the councilor into mild social deference as she spoke—slowly, clearly, mysteriously, and occasionally slipping into her first language. Tevos wondered if her companions had noticed. While her translator was not set to translate that particular dialect, Irissa's and Eleni's were, likely making it impossible for them to detect the transition.

Bondmates of her cousins were met as well as a few children, most already fully-grown into polite, well-mannered adults, and some with offspring of their own. Laiene had a younger sister in her maiden years, as well as a daughter. And according to Nerava, in addition to her two grown daughters, she also had a little one off roaming with other children and promised to introduce her at a later time. And, of course, they met with the one who had successfully persuaded Tevos to attend the reunion. Councilor Estulius was clearly a people-person, liberally chatting with all sorts of guests he had never met before. As planned, he and Tevos made a few rounds about the most prominent individuals, telling a construed tale of how media speculation made them aware of a relation that had been lost and forgotten over the centuries, and how they embraced it with good humor. The interactions went flawlessly, with each group they visited thoroughly entertained by the story, and most importantly, believing in it. If the remainder of their scheme played out with equal success, their account would spread and public perception of the two councilors would be altered for the better.

Once that business had been taken care of, the group originally created in the foyer reassembled for a walk through the main halls of the estate. The two quarreling relatives had made peace with one another, and Tevos had begun to wear a small, pleasant smile; the only revealing clue to her enjoyment of the gathering thus far. She had not anticipated the sheer power of nostalgia, of immediately belonging somewhere without enduring a trial to gauge equivalent skill nor likeness in personal values. Dread had turned into excitement over the short time she had spent on the estate, betraying her original plans of being extraordinary skeptical of everything her relatives said to her while trying to locate the lies hidden in it all—but that agenda had been put on indefinite hold.

They strode on, united by a peaceful, friendly demeanor making their hearts feel light; or was it merely a creation of the glasses of white wine finding their hands as servants with platters containing such libations passed by them while they toured along? At one point when they had started down a long winding hall fitted with plated windows curving at their right, and a multitude of doors and passages to their left, Nerava had gracefully lifted yet another glass from a passing opportunity, only for Farala to just as tactfully pinch it from her hand and return it to the tray with an explanation, "Spare us from any more _animation_ than what you're already giving us this afternoon."

Her intervention, however, came a tad too late. Nerava was in irrevocably marvelous spirits, entertaining Tevos and her two additional companions by asking them an assortment of questions regarding their occupations.

"And how goes counseling, Councilor?" she asked Tevos. "How goes your strides toward galactic peace and unity? Do you forecast an era of complete and utter peace and cooperation just over the horizon?"

"Some conflicts are a bit too ancient for my optimism," Tevos admitted to her. "But I suppose hoping never caused harm to anyone."

"Oh, I don't know," Irissa quipped, "Shattered hopes, brutal disillusionment... I'd say a lot of harm could come to hopeful persons."

"Well if you subject yourself to pessimism you just might be less inclined to strive for anything worthwhile," Tevos suggested in good humor. "Cynicism is not always productive, but of course, neither is gullibility. A healthy balance, as usual, is appropriate."

After a moment, Nerava resumed her interview, "And what of biotic ability, Tevos? I recall you never showing much of an interest in receiving any training."

"Physical activities never were my forte, no," she answered.

"Did you ever happen to seek out those skills?"

"I did not," Tevos truthfully replied. "I'm afraid I was stubborn in neglecting that skill set to better allocate my efforts to my education and job. There are times when I encounter situations when having some average ability would've been convenient, but these situations are rare enough to not cause me any true regret."

"I see," Nerava said. "One could only imagine those instances... I thoroughly respect your decision given the context of your circumstance, but I must admit that I, myself, could not bear without biotic ability. I mean, not only does it impair your self-defense capabilities—" She spared the C-Sec guards watchfully lingering at some distance a brief glance, then leaned in closely to Tevos and lowered her voice, "—but also your love life."

While Irissa could not help but allow a cry of laughter to escape her, Eleni appeared truly shocked that someone had dared speak to Councilor Tevos in such a crass manner, family or not. As for Tevos herself—after first recovering her voice—she responded, "Are there to be any boundaries with you, Nerava?"

"I'm only saying, is all!" she defended herself. "There is _nothing_ worse than a dull or absent—"

" _Anyway_ ," Laiene jumped in to rescue the councilor from further mortification, "I've heard that you recently had to negotiate with that Terminus Space warlord again. Aria T'Loak, if I'm not mistaken?"

The switch of subject matter gave Tevos a chilling pause as she discovered that she did not know which topic she'd rather discuss: Aria, or sexual behavior. Both made her extremely uncomfortable, and even worse than that on its own, the two topics were secretly known to overlap periodically. Tevos felt the thought sapping her confidence. She had ceased denying that she liked Aria quite a significant amount, and she had even recklessly acted upon it, ignoring every warning she had issued herself about the dangers. She _knew_ the deep terror that inevitably came with getting too involved with Aria. She knew it by heart, like a bold manifest nailed to the walls of her conscience declaring all possible—and awful—eventual consequences. And yet she _still_ insisted on dismissing it. She still insisted on kissing her, on wanting to kiss her _again_ , on wanting to enjoy her company. If only Aria did not fascinate her as much as she did...

Tevos had not stopped thinking about their last meeting since that very night. _What will I do about this?_ She thought on regular intervals. _I wish there was an easy solution. A simple dichotomy: to forget anything ever happened between us at all, or to begin... seeing her. I would select the first, if reality had given me the choice. But it is not simple. It is complex and confused. I want her and yet I want nothing to do with her. She is simply not worth the risk, as I told her a few nights ago. She is too cruel to me. She will use me. She will prey upon me. And I will lose in the end, when she has devoured my heart and body to the bone, when she has consumed and absorbed every advantage a councilor could offer her. But I state that as if it were conditional, as though if Aria were kinder to me, if she approached me with no ulterior motives other than the obvious and... well, 'agreeable' one, as I've decided in this case... I would accept. But would I really? Would I really accept and stride headfirst into such a scandal?_

She felt a tad ill. It was a concoction of vertigo and longing.

"This is true, yes," Tevos said, decisively staving off the remnants of her distraction to answer the question. "The Council must occasionally address incidents that could lead to agitated standings in the future. It is generally wise to allay the situation earlier when it is smaller, rather than wait until it has turned into something much more... worrisome."

Little did anyone around her know that a hunt for Asari High Command's agents on Omega had commenced just a few nights previously, which would have sounded quite concerning if Tevos had been insane enough to reveal that tidbit.

"But how outlandish," Laiene remarked, "to have a productive meeting with a character of such moral deficiency. How is anything ever decided? How is either side ever made satisfied when you are both so different in every facet of ideology? I suppose I mean to ask of you: what traits does she express which allow peace to be possible?"

"It all seems like luck to me," Irissa supplied an answer for Tevos before the latter could develop a response. "Don't be fooled; there were a few instances over these recent decades where I was convinced that our armistice-treaty hybrid would catastrophically shatter. Aria T'Loak is powerful and frightening, but at the end of the day she's just a violent brute with enough greed and arrogance to send her fearlessly antagonizing or trying to bribe Tevos at least once a month. And the worst of it all is that we need _her_ help to keep Council space and the Terminus Systems from squabbling..."

Tevos's relatives received the description with slight dejection, but with understanding as well. Evidently they had hoped for something more miraculous and surprising than just the Council's tolerance of Aria T'Loak's misbehavior. On a reflex, Tevos amended Irissa's account.

"Actually," she said, "Aria T'Loak has proven to be quite intelligent and capable of civil deliberation. Although I won't argue against that she can be abrasive and difficult, Aria is with certainty one of the most complex individuals I've ever met."

She caught Irissa's eyes with her own. Her friend was eyeing her strangely. Not with anger that they had disagreed in their descriptions of Aria, but something resembling... concern. As if Tevos had made an awful statement without knowing, or as if there was some sort of illness infecting her words. The councilor failed to make sense of the expression.

"How fascinating," Farala commented on the topic of Aria. "Is she a good conversationalist, I wonder?"

Tevos severed her exchanged gaze with Irissa to answer the question, deciding that a vague reply would be best, "Well, there's never been a dull moment, I assure you."

"And you are not frightened of her?" Farala inquired further, expressing genuine interest.

"I believe I once was," Tevos thoughtfully admitted. "But no longer, no. We have both found that more positive than negative effects come from being on non-hostile terms."

"Is she decent to you?" Laiene spoke up again from a few paces behind her, "Does she show proper etiquette?"

"Actually, she has begun to. Quite astounding, I initially thought. However, I must also mention that gaining any fraction of respect from her is no easy task. I discovered this the hard way, and over no small amount of time, that you must _demand_ her respect to receive it; continually and relentlessly reminding her that you are deserving of it until she is permanently convinced. It is a great amount of effort exerted to obtain something that should have already been given in the first place, of course, but... that is how it remains functioning."

They regarded their cousin with mild awe, intrigued at Tevos's report of Aria's autocratic character, and at how in the universe she had successfully found the patience and persuasive measures needed to alter the opinion of one who would see all politician ilk burn if she had her way. While they were enthralled with the councilor's great achievement, Eleni had caught from the periphery of her vision the sight of Irissa once again eyeing Tevos as if she alone could see something invisible to them all. Some foul, ominous threat hanging about the topic of Aria T'Loak which was still quite nebulous in nature and in future design.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

The last few days, for Liselle, had been marred by disheartening change. The time had come to move yet again at Aria's decree, but this time, there had been a tremendous catch: Iaera was being reassigned to other duties, and would not accompany the girl in her housing situation ever again. The news emptied Liselle of joy and filled her with enervating disorientation due to never knowing what it was like to reside somewhere without a parental figure enforcing behavioral guidelines on Aria's behalf. She did not know what to do with the autonomy suddenly thrust upon her. She did not know how to take advantage of it, or even how it could have been used. The new surge of independence merely felt like loneliness, especially on the first night, with no one to speak to during meals or when trivial activities became too boring to bear any longer.

On the first morning of her solitude, Liselle had restlessly stepped out for an hour to browse the nearby markets. Fortunately, there were no robberies, fights, or shootings that day to witness, but while Liselle was perusing the diverse vendors and kiosks selling foods and wares, she came to notice the peculiar repetition of a few faces. Initially she had feared that a group of people intended to follow and mug her due to her solitude and slight stature—all traits advertising easy prey—but she soon came to realize that the suspicious persons meant no harm. Upon that realization, their purpose was spontaneously known: Aria had arranged for several operatives to keep a watchful eye on Liselle whenever she went out.

She nearly made a snide remark to one regarding their inadequate discretion, but she held her tongue. With the extra security circling around her, Liselle thought it harmless to wander off further away from her apartment, perhaps subconsciously only to make the jobs of the operatives more difficult. Sure enough, she continued to notice the same faces occurring over and over throughout her excursion. Coincidentally, when she had put a considerable distance between herself and home, Liselle received new orders from Aria, almost as if her mother deliberately sent it to prevent her daughter from getting lost as a consequence of her stubborn defiance:

.

TO: LISELLE KASANTIS  
FROM: ARIA T'LOAK  
SUBJECT: Orders  
ATTACHMENT: CONTRACT, LCTN.1

I have an errand for your team. Since the Kenzo District came under my control, supply lines, outposts, and allies have made themselves comfortable in the territory. This includes the Eclipse. I have an old agreement with this organization, and I've made the acquaintance of many of its division leaders. From these contacts I have selected a competent individual to fill a vacancy in my own administration. The attachment to this message contains the contractual agreement conceived between myself and Eclipse founder Jona Sederis for the transferal of one specific Eclipse officer to my own ranks.

You are my formal representatives and messengers of this contract, to present my offer and negotiate if necessary (meaning: if the contact is unwilling to accept, inform her that I am willing to include additional benefits and privileges along with the position on my admin). I've included directions to the building where you will find my contact. Make sure to state your business to the guards and ask for "First Lieutenant Wasea".

She will be neither friend nor foe to you, but you're welcome to try influencing her into becoming the former.

.

That very afternoon the team met at a shuttle station to catch the next route into the Kenzo District. After weaving through the bustling, clamorous streams of people, Liselle located her turian and batarian associates seated on a platform's bench awaiting their transportation. She stepped toward them, approaching from their left, slowly with uncertainty. She stared at the side of Malak's head with bright, alert eyes, wondering how he and Rasma were going to receive her after the incident a few days previously. Perhaps the fact that the data she secured helped out Aria in the end would be a sufficient reason for them to have her back without argument. With only one way to find out, she came to stand out in front of them, securing their attention and bracing herself.

No one said anything at first, satisfied with only emitting harsh stares until Malak finally and acridly spoke, "So the boss let you off the hook? How do you suppose _that_ happened?"

Liselle replied, "The data I retrieved saved the lives of people she was monitoring."

There was silence yet again. Rasma and Malak exchanged glances.

"Listen, kid," Malak began, "I know we sort of had an unspoken agreement to stay out of each other's personal lives, but..."

The moment he said that, Liselle thought to herself, _Although it wasn't exactly out of courtesy. It was because no one cared in the slightest._

"But this is way too much," continued the batarian. "This is too strange, too coincidental. If we're going to continue working with you on this team, we need to know what's going on."

"No we don't," Rasma disputed, causing a deep frown to appear on Malak's face. "Our superior made a decision and we have no place questioning it. Liselle did something that pleased her and that's all we need to know."

Malak rose from the bench, not meaning to stand beside Liselle, but purposely to _oppose_ Rasma. "Yeah, Visiom. We all know you'd kiss the ground the boss walks on, but that's not good enough anymore."

She glared menacingly. Liselle had known from the very first day she worked with Rasma that the turian had immense respect for Aria's authority. She took great pride in her loyalty, in duty, only to have it ridiculed to her face by a man who had essentially spent his life _leeching_ off of another's prowess to further his own. The asari of the group knew their conversation was about to spiral into conflict; the result of their differences and trivial bickering having built up over the last few weeks and erupting all at once.

"Something's going on," Malak said, ignoring Rasma's glare. "Liselle isn't some ordinary agent. There's a _reason_ why the boss has been so supportive of her. I want to know what it is." He turned to the girl, holding her under a suspicious, four-eyed leer.

Liselle almost shrank beneath it, but held fast as she frantically began fabricating a lie to save herself. Fortunately, she was given some extra time by Rasma, who didn't intend to let Malak get away with insulting her.

"Have you always been this terrible at following orders?" she bitterly asked him. "Is this why you so quickly lost your job once your darling cousin Olat Dar'nerah wasn't around to protect your ass?"

"You fucking shut up!" Malak snarled. "You think you're so smart, a perfect example of the model mercenary, but you're just _simple_. You're just an idiot. An empty-headed, mindless _slave_ to the boss because she's the only way you're going to avenge your dumbass spouse. You think you're using this mission to get what you want. Using the boss's need for good agents. But it's not like that. She's using _you_. That's how it always fucking is! She _knew_ you were going to be an obedient little puppet. She _knew_ you're weren't going to question orders, and that you were going to lead this team _exactly_ how she wanted. So in reality, what's more pathetic? Using another's success for my personal gain, or being a brainless, blissfully ignorant _pawn_?"

Rasma stood up in one, smooth motion, her height rising over Malak's as she initiated a physical challenge. People nearby had warily begun to eye them, wondering if the dispute would spiral into the drawing of guns which was so very commonplace on their station.

"And what do you gain by being defiant?" Rasma sneered. "What would any of us gain, in the end, from being defiant? It'll only get you _death_. So are you really so smart, Lekahn, being the 'free-thinker' you are? What I do—what I've _chosen_ to do—is not mindless conformity. And it sure as hell isn't rebellion just for the sake of it, like it seems to be in your case."

Their standoff began to flicker out at that impasse, both still staunchly standing behind their respective convictions. In exasperation, Malak jerked his head toward the silent Liselle and said, "So what, then? She's sticking with us and we can't do anything about it?"

"That's right," Rasma firmly said. "She stays."

He turned to the asari, eyeing her from head to toe with shameless disdain, and she returned the leer with as much pride as she could muster. "There had better be a good reason," he darkly said. "There better be something particularly useful about you, something our boss needs on this team to make our cooperation worthwhile. Who fucking knows. Maybe you're a luck embodiment. Maybe the gods favor you. They had _better,_ for your sake."

Rasma rolled her eyes as they all faced the shuttle coming into the miniature bay. "Oh shut up with your superstitions, Lekahn."

The batarian scowled. "Fuck you! You turians are always going on about 'spirits' this, 'spirits' that... Oh, invoke the spirit of the platoon! Spirit of the dinner table! Spirit of the latrine!"

They weathered the small crowd of people exiting the shuttle before boarding it. The cramped interior was hardly a place for Liselle's two other teammates to continue their incessant bickering, first about religious colloquialisms, then leaping into a discussion about being relegated to running Aria's banal errands. After they reached their stop, the feuding trio and a handful of other passengers disembarked into the Kenzo District and went their separate ways. But even upon entering Eclipse territory, all three members of the Eingana team were still immersed in aggressive discourse, only growing silent at last when they arrived at their destination.

The Eclipse outpost was once a prominent business tower in the heart of the Kenzo District; tall and composed of harsh angles and short albeit wide windows tinted so darkly that one would initially fall under the impression that the structure was devoid of power and utterly abandoned. What alerted the team Eingana to the contrary being true were the yellow-clad troops traipsing about the premises, holding shotguns in their hands as their bodies occasionally shimmered with an eerie light generated by their shields and barriers, like waves of heat rising from hot metal. Upon reaching the main gate, the three were immediately approached by an asari standing guard at its entrance. As Aria had instructed, they stated their business to the Eclipse mercenary, who deemed their claim acceptable, assured them that they would be closely monitored throughout their stay in the building, and then raised her armored hand to signal allies posted in a nearby tower to open the gate. While heading through the parting walls of metal, the team was promptly surrounded by several other guards who escorted them to the front of the tower where Liselle observed a large, malevolent scorch mark climbing up the side of the building; a black residue silently narrating some recent strife, possibly when Aria and her forces had stormed the area, or if and when the Eclipse had been given permission to purge the tower of rival enterprise and take it for their own occupation. Apparently, the ignition of the grand, sudden flame was also the cause for a single window found in the heart of its gruesome scar being replaced by a pane of clear glass—a hasty, cheap replacement for the former installment that had likely burst when subjected to extreme heat.

Past the main doors they stepped into a sparingly-lit lobby fortified by neatly constructed barricades made of stacked weapon crates, upon which a few Eclipse operatives sat while they radioed other ally divisions and fortresses scattered about Omega. The population, Liselle noted, was primarily asari and salarian, and the environment was impressively well-organized, efficient, and clean compared to the Blood Pack (whom she had developed her perceptions about from Aria; specifically, her mother's complaints about the Blood Pack's general disorder and chaotic lines of succession which often made working with them an arduous task, but a tolerable one due to their notorious levels of firepower and resilience as whole).

At the main desk in the lobby was seated a salarian, who leered intensely at their company from the very moment they stepped into the building. He did not rise to greet them. He remained with strikingly linear poise. When they reached him, Rasma stepped forward to interact.

"As your guards have probably informed you," she diplomatically began, detecting his reluctant compliance to having them there, "we're here on Aria T'Loak's behalf to negotiate a private contract between her and First Lieutenant Wasea. If you grant us an audience with the lieutenant we can start our business immediately and be gone from your compound within the hour."

He ran a scrupulous eye over them, then looked down to press a finger onto an intercom panel, selecting the recipient of his message before speaking into the device, "Lobby to Wasea. We have... guests, and they want to talk to you."

Liselle had her eyes locked onto the speaker while awaiting the response, only looking away to briefly glance around at the numerous guards lingering a few meters away on all sides.

_"Tell them to come back later,"_ the lieutenant's voice crackled through the speaker. _"I'm about to eat lunch."_

The salarian insisted, "They're from Aria, First Lieutenant. It might be appropriate to hear them out at the very least."

A bitter curse reached their ears, followed by muffled speech, some shuffling around, then a frustrated reply, _"Fine. Send them up. Tell them to make it quick."_

The salarian removed his hand from the panel, then regarded Aria's operatives. "You heard her. You have as much time as she's willing to spare you. Take the elevator up to the executive level, first door on the left. A few of my guards will accompany you and show you the way."

With a gesture he summoned a pair of asari to step forward from the ring corralling Liselle and her team, who led them toward the spacious, immaculate elevator. They were herded inside, the floor of their destination was selected for them, and the doors sealed shut before the elevator began to ascend. Throughout the trip, every passenger within the closed space remained still and silent. There didn't seem to be any warmth between Aria's syndicate and the Eclipse. Not even the semblances of camaraderie Liselle occasionally witnessed amongst Aria's hirelings. No nods of acknowledgement, no idle chatting, not even extended eye contact. With this peculiar evidence, she then better understood the relationship between her mother and the Eclipse.

Aria, the owner of what was arguably the largest and deadliest force in the Terminus Systems, lorded over most of Omega and gangs such as the Eclipse were merely vassals reduced to a second-rate profile not because it had been in their deepest desires to ultimately submit to Aria's power, but because it was an _absolutely necessary_ action taken to ensure their survival in the Terminus Systems. For a moment, Liselle considered the possibility that the Eclipse could have been secretly working to overthrow Aria, acting on undeclared hatred mounting over years of being held in check under her boot. It would make enough sense to be worth pondering, at least. Maybe, Liselle thought, this individual Aria sought was somehow a part in an elaborate plan to sabotage her after infiltrating her administration, not unlike what Anikot had done.

They arrived at the executive level, stepped out of the elevator, and were let into the massive office previously belonging to the tower's former CEO and recently commandeered by the Eclipse. Judging by the décor, very few changes had been made since the CEO's removal. The sofas, plants, floor rugs, and shelves were kept in stasis, preserved like an array of luxurious trophies to proudly declare Wasea's successful takeover. The only feature that might have been altered, Liselle suspected, was the level of lighting, which for the Eclipse seemed to be preferably low—perhaps to ration power and cut costs while they were finalizing their repurposing of the business tower. The main light source was but the endless fiery hearth of Omega, bleeding through the wide window at the far back of the office, and its glow only interrupted by a collection of silhouettes blackened by the deep shadows their bodies cast. Among them, as Liselle saw when they drew close, was the one called Wasea seated at the massive, ostentatious desk upon which various dents and small holes bore into the surface. How they were caused was unknown, but Liselle had a feeling the story involved the desk being turned over and used as a makeshift cover when the office had been engulfed by battle. The very second they reached her with all of team Eingana consciously leaving a respectful distance between themselves and Aria's contact, Wasea lifted two items from the desk—one in each hand—that glinted a silvery color in the minimal light before she applied them to something set before her.

Liselle lowered her eyes onto the object, straining through the heavy darkness to see a plate; and upon the plate, she assessed, lied Wasea's lunch: a delicately-dressed fish encircled by an aesthetically pleasing corona of green vegetables and vibrantly-hued fruits cut into manageable cubes. It smelled appetizing. Fresh, and carefully smoked to standards befitting a high-class dining establishment.

Unwilling to interrupt and risk invoking Aria's wrath if they caused a social disruption of any sort, the team was forced to quietly watch the scene of Wasea stabbing a scalpel-like utensil into the thick suit of scales worn by her meal, dragging the blade along its body before peeling it open to reveal the mauve-tinted flesh bursting from the incision. She cut and delivered pieces to her mouth, all roughly the same size and punctuated by lifting the other components of her lunch to her lips every three bites or so. It was a tedious experience. Meticulous, like the algorithmic predictability of machines built for a particular task. Liselle found herself staring down at the eye of the fish before long, gazing into its dead, glossy orb while its cadaver was steadily consumed.

"So," Wasea finally spoke to them while reaching for a bottle on the desk, the outline of her arm revealing that she was not dressed in armor, but in the comforts of a plain, form-fitting black shirt, boasting the agile and muscular physique beneath. The top half of a large, disk-like pale scar, like a rough sunburst inflicted during a biotic battle of epic proportions, protruded from her low collar. She unscrewed the bottle's cap and began pouring herself a drink. "Aria has business with me." After she sealed the bottle again, she downed a generous portion contained in her glass. "And shooting the messenger is _always_ bad business, unfortunately, so I've been forced to accommodate you three for the next fifteen minutes." She took up her eating utensils once again.

Liselle thought that Wasea's voice might have been more amiable if she had not imbued every syllable with insurmountable force and strength. Wasea looked up at them at last. Such vicious red marks roasted away on her features, framing her face in perpetual hostility and communicating to all who looked upon her a certain passion and aggression of spirit. Cold gray eyes tried to temper the fires, but failed to reduce the molten burn of her glare any remarkable amount. In that respect, Liselle was vaguely reminded of her mother. The intimidating presence, the neatness in basic habit, the unquestioned authority. The similarities varied in degree, but enough were present for the maiden to absently forge a correlation.

"Aria has a proposition," Rasma said to the asari, lifting her arm to access her omni-tool. "She's already made all the necessary arrangements with your superiors and only needs your acceptance."

In reaction, Wasea stopped cutting into the carcass to narrow her eyes at the plate. She set down her utensils again, scornfully meeting the turian's eyes. "What sort of proposition is this?"

Rasma established a short-range link with Wasea, who approved the contract's file to be transmitted to her own omni-tool. "Aria is requesting that you accept a spot on her administration, specifically reserved for you, it seems."

A sour expression afflicted Wasea; a repulsed scowl and a sharp crease in her brow as she viewed the contract, spending ample time reading through its contents to see what type of deal had been drafted without her knowledge. When she had finished, Wasea suddenly rose from her exquisite chair, ripped a cloth napkin from her collar, and threw it forcefully to the floor. Her shoulders steadily heaved as she stood there for a few long moments, simply beside herself with rage until the initial worst had passed. With an ounce of composure regained at long last, Wasea returned to her seat, dropping down listlessly and addressing them with an unnerving, collected indifference, "So Aria has sent some ragtag team my way to request my help in solving a problem she can't handle herself? Yes, you heard right. I know all about what's been happening. That's what this is about, isn't it?"

"That isn't for me to say," Rasma flatly answered. "And I'm not at liberty to give my personal opinion on the matter."

"Of course you're not," Wasea cruelly said. "Because your opinion doesn't matter. Nor does any opinion when weighed against Aria's—that's how her syndicate is constructed. Like a monarchy, with the _Queen_ at the very summit." She raised a hand, making a leveling-out gesture to emphasize her point. "In her kingdom her word is law, and all beneath her _bow_. She constantly spills all sorts of monetary prizes and elite privileges onto her administration, keeping them absolutely smothered and never even _thinking_ about acting out against her. Save for the obvious exceptions. It would work on me too, right? Because that's what I'm interested in, because that's all I want? Money. Entertainment. Recognition. The _Queen's_ favor." Wasea leaned forward, intensely gazing at them all. "Well, isn't it?"

"That's the question Aria's asking you," Malak quipped. He appeared to be unamused by the asari's indirect speaking style. Beside him, Rasma looked as if she would gladly stab him if given permission.

"What Aria's _asking_ me," Wasea said, "is if I'd be satisfied with kneeling at her feet every waking moment for the rest of my life, kept quiet and mindless by her bribes. Do you know how the Eclipse works?" Silence prompted her to continue. "We operate on a cellular basis. Meaning that although Jona Sederis is our founder, she doesn't actively coordinate all our operations. Each division is an independent organism, and we are granted the freedom to run our cells however we please and carry out whatever operations we want. Sederis's only condition is that the divisions pay her monthly fees and adhere to her treaties, like the one we have with Aria T'Loak. If a division isn't raking in enough credits, or if they've caused damages to the Eclipse any notable amount, she has the leadership of that division removed and replaced by more competent people. You see... this is why I wouldn't be caught dead working for Aria. Here, with the Eclipse, anyone can become Queen. Of a smaller nation, yes, but I don't have to be anyone's lap-pet." She returned to her meal, plucking a few pieces of fruit from the plate with her fingers and eating them. "That's why my answer is no. And you can tell Aria T'Loak to go fuck herself while you're at it." She downed the remainder of her drink and began refilling her glass.

The team was taken aback by her rejection, especially the profanity directed at Aria. They could simply not conceive ever speaking to Aria like that, not without first accepting the fate of imminent dismemberment.

"Are you certain?" Rasma pried. "Aria is willing to negotiate, if you're willing to consider. There are more benefits she can offer you."

"Tell her to shove her benefits up her ass."

Again, a reflexive wince was roused from them all. For once, Rasma found herself without words. There was simply no more she could say to persuade someone who held that much disdain for Aria. The situation was swiftly beginning to resemble a lost cause. And so a question collectively struck them: why had Aria even wanted Wasea on her administration in the first place, if she was this liable to commit incessant insubordination?

To their surprise, Liselle spoke up, deciding that they had nothing to lose from her taking a shot. "Well, does the contract say this is a permanent position? What are the time parameters? In a way... you could use this to your advantage. Serve on Aria's administration until she's found her enemies and stopped their attacks, claim some credit for helping Aria 'do something she can't handle herself', then return to the Eclipse. I'm sure Aria might consider that."

For a while Wasea observed Liselle, suddenly appearing distinctly intrigued by the ignoble girl so boldly speaking up. There was something about the maiden, in how she worded her suggestion to make it sound more like a choice with no other alternatives, as if her solution was the correct one, if there was indeed one at all. Tragically, however, the girl's plan would not be implemented.

"Tempting," Wasea conceded. "But impractical. I doubt suddenly leaving my division would keep the respect and loyalty I've earned here intact. My answer stands."

Liselle gave a dejected nod.

"Well then," Rasma said, "I suppose if there is truly nothing we can feasibly offer you... then we'll leave you now." As Malak already began heading for the door, Rasma noticed that Liselle had become slightly crestfallen and reluctant to move from where she stood. "Come on, Liselle," she said to her, motioning for her to follow suit in their departure.

"Hold on," Wasea stopped them, recapturing the attention of all three operatives. She singled out Liselle. "What was your name?"

She froze. "Why?"

"Answer me," Wasea said, the demand in her voice rising. She pointed at Rasma, then at Liselle again. "You said Liselle, right?"

"I did," Rasma answered, ignorant to what significance the girl's name held. "We're Aria's representatives. Our names are not meant to be a secret to you."

"Come here, girl," Wasea ordered Liselle. When she hesitated, Malak gave her a small shove forward, meaning to insinuate that any opportunity to gain the Eclipse officer's favor was one that had to be taken, but to Liselle, he merely seemed more than eager to throw her into the fire without blinking. With no other escape routes, Liselle complied and cautiously approached Wasea's desk. There was a long a pause during which Liselle's face was closely examined by the fearsome asari. Eventually, Wasea concluded, "You're Liselle... _Kasantis_ , right?"

Without thinking she nodded multiple times, confirming the validity of her pseudonym in desperate protection of her identity.

"That _bitch!"_ Wasea abruptly swore, making Liselle flinch and eliciting confounded expressions from the girl's fellows. She severed her gaze from Liselle, directing it elsewhere in contempt. "What sort of fucking game is she playing?" She surveyed her surroundings, then emphatically gestured to a pair of guards positioned in the corners of the office. "Leave us, all of you. You two as well," she said to the guards, then to Malak and Rasma.

Liselle threw her teammates a genuinely panicked look, begging them to intervene. They could only shrug and obey.

"Are you certain we should leave?" a guard asked her superior.

Wasea rolled her eyes. "I think I can handle one scrawny asari," she curtly said, waiting until her office had totally cleared out save for herself and Liselle. When they were alone, Wasea pointed out a nearby armchair with dark leather upholstery. "Pull that over here and have a seat."

She stiffly moved herself, navigating through the dimly-lit office and securing her hands on the arms of the designated chair. Liselle proceeded to drag it over to the desk and obediently, albeit very nervously, sat down as directed. She folded her hands in her lap, unable to adjust her position without awkwardly chaffing the supple leather of the seat against the similar material of her commando attire, and subconsciously began to fidget as Wasea finished off her meal.

The Eclipse officer radiated toxic ire, seeping through every action while eating. When she was nearly finished, Wasea lifted her eyes to meet Liselle's apprehension. The maiden thought she was about to say something, but anticipated incorrectly. Instead, Wasea's gaze dropped to her plate where she stabbed a remaining piece of fish, bringing it up to her face to examine it for an extended period of time. Once satisfied with her analysis, she spoke to Liselle, "This was my favorite meal when I was younger, living on Thessia. A traditional breakfast, sometimes lunch. It rarely mattered to me. I'd eat it any time of the day. So... where do you think this particular fish came from, _Liselle?"_

She said her name with enough venom to make Liselle feel nauseous. "I don't know," she muttered. There was something about Wasea, something that betrayed all the traits she might have shared with Aria, whom Liselle ultimately loved despite their occasional clashes. Wasea possessed a quality that deviated from it all, warping what was previously a shade of Liselle's mother into a sinister fiend hailing from the uncanny valley.

Wasea took the piece of fish into her mouth, thoughtfully chewing as if it were her first time actually tasting it. "It was bred here on Omega," she revealed the answer to her own question, looking at Liselle with her stormy eyes. "It's some of the freshest meat you can get on this station. No importing, no off-world water contaminants, given eezo-supplements throughout its entire life to mimic Thessian enrichment, and it was alive only a few minutes before it was cooked and brought to my plate." She began picking at what remained of her lunch, features suddenly overcome with revulsion. Wasea dropped her knife as if the whole scene on the desk offended her, and said, "And it was _disgusting_. It tasted awful, like sewer water. Putrid, vile _garbage_ carrying the stench of disease and poverty, sticking to my esophagus like _tar_..."

Liselle stared at the remains of the fish, unable to fathom such a delicious-looking meal being so foul. Only minutes before, she admitted to herself, Liselle had actually been somewhat envious of it and was inspired to try—on Aria's mountains of credits keeping her pockets relatively full, of course—acquiring something similar for herself later that evening.

"It was _disgusting_ ," Wasea repeated, luridly enunciating every syllable with immense aversion. She pushed her plate aside to the far corner of the desk. "I can't eat the trash here anymore. I can't take it anymore. I need to find a way off this damn station and onto a world with clean air and water... But _Aria T'Loak_ wants me to stay to help her," she concluded the statement with a sickly, whining tone of mockery. "That maniacal woman covets her precious Omega, oh yes. Stroking the jewel of the Terminus Systems as if she were furiously in love. I could never understand how she _somehow_ cannot see the pit of stink behind the veil of her romantic delusion. I fucking _hate it_ here." After verbally striking at Aria, Wasea turned her attention back to Liselle, lowering the volume of her voice, but retaining all its intent to cause injury. "So, girl, what happened to your Queen? Why is she asking for my help, if not to prank me, if not to ridicule me? Has she finally began to crumble away in the wind? Oh dear—I've forgotten my manners, haven't I? You must not understand my reference, because you don't really even know what proper wind is, do you, Liselle?"

Abruptly and overwhelmingly, Liselle was seized in a grip of panic that widened her eyes and strangled her throat. She could say nothing in her defense. Such an insinuation was an omen of something incredibly frightening and disturbing, that this Eclipse _psychopath_ —as Liselle thought of her—could possibly be a rare keeper of Aria's sacred information, and essentially another protector of Liselle's life? She felt ill, her stomach churning in distress and her thoughts beginning to swim with fear, shock, and confusion.

"I wonder," Wasea quietly said, watching the girl gape in horror, "if you've despaired and desperately rattled the bars of your prison for years, or if you've just blissfully sang in your cage for your entire life like a little bird who never knew what the sky was?" She inclined her head ever so slightly, bringing Liselle under an intense examination again and focusing on her with such dangerous insight that it seemed as though she were peering right through her body. "I see mother dearest has finally let her use her wings."

Liselle opened her jaw a few times, building up the wit to speak before weakly saying, "I really don't know what you're talking about. You... You may have me confused for someone else."

Wasea found great amusement in this. "Oh, I've made no mistake," she assured the maiden. "You have your mother's eyes."

She shook her head in dismay, continuing to do so as if the action might dispel the nightmare about to envelop her.

"Although I do admit—I expected you to be less delicate by this age. What _mighty_ offspring the Queen has raised...! What happened? Did Aria drink and smoke you into deficiency before you were born?" Her atrocious laughter persisted after her question, which was as tasteless as it was insulting. Only seeing Liselle's acrid frown and balled fists brought Wasea's jeering to an end, who was now pleased to see some genuine fight coaxed out of the young, unimpressive asari. If the maiden hadn't inherited enough of her mother's likeness to produce a more prevalent resemblance in stature and presence, at least she had picked up some pride. "So, I'll ask you this: what is Aria trying to accomplish by sending her runt to me, rather than other representatives? To tap into my sympathy? To make me pity the poor little girl who's about to lose her sweet mother if I don't join in and save her? I like that one."

"What's your problem with Aria?" Liselle rudely asked, still not able to shake her developed habit of her referring to Aria by name despite already mournfully resigning to the truth, to the fact that Wasea knew _exactly_ who she was. And because of that, Liselle had quickly abandoned politeness, for not only did she tire of Wasea's mockery, but she also knew that if Aria had entrusted her secrets with this deranged individual for whatever reason she had, the Eclipse officer would not likely _dare_ harm Liselle under any circumstance. "I know you don't like where she has the Eclipse. I got that. But it sounds like you've got something personal against her. Something other than the fact that her syndicate is much more powerful than yours." She was diligent in emphasizing her final statement to remind Wasea of her inferiority.

"Well you've got your mother's mouth as well!" Wasea derisively exclaimed. "But to graciously answer your question, yes, I _do_ have something personal against her. And I know what your next question will be. Why has Aria selected someone so inclined to fight her, to join her administration, her circle of loyal champions who will follow her into hell at a moment's notice? It's because trust has proven to be a rare commodity these days, and your mother is resorting to drastic measures. Looks like I'm the only one left."

Liselle had tried to follow her throughout the reply, but had tragically failed in the end. Her eyes flitted about the red markings embellishing Wasea's face, then drifted to the bottle on the table. Reading the label revealed to her that it was a rum, and peering at the bottle itself revealed its contents to be past half-empty. Suddenly, it occurred to Liselle that the other asari's volatile behavior may have not been a natural state.

Noticing the maiden's glaring disconcertion, Wasea went on after a pause, "The trust between us was borne through very complicated circumstances. You see, I arranged for and acquired safe places for you to live back when you were an infant. I was Aria's eyes when they were solely upon you. But to have gained inclusion in such a secretive 'operation' must have required prior reason to trust me, of course. That was because I knew some things about your mother that no living person probably did, and over many years there was not one instance where I spoke of them to anyone. This was partially because squealing to anyone would get me killed, _and_ because... that's a coward's way of bringing someone down. I may be a lot of things, but I'm not that."

Although Liselle was somewhat amazed to hear about another guardian of her life being found in such strange settings and allegiances, she could not contain her comments on Wasea's explanation of why things were as they were. "So it's not flat-out hatred," she said as if the realization were humorously absurd. "It's just a _rivalry_. You wouldn't let anyone lay their hands on Aria because you'd rather do it yourself, in a fair fight. _That's_ why my mother trusts you. She knows you won't sell her out _and_ she doesn't think you'd actually beat her at anything."

Wasea's held her jaw stiffly with barely-suppressed rage. While she simmered, the situation was becoming clearer to Liselle. That was why Wasea had reacted with such anger when initially presented with the contract. Hidden in its text was encrypted a message from Aria detailing the extents of her confidence, of her absolute strategic upper-hand. Aria always played the game so impeccably, so cleverly and patiently and she struck _precisely_ when she knew she would win. And in reflex, Wasea was vehemently refusing the position on her administration purely to defy and spite her, to deny her even the smallest drop of satisfaction; thrashing against the chains of Aria's pervasive manipulation, against being forcefully reeled into her machine. Perhaps Wasea was not so insane for feeling and acting the way she had.

"You knew things about my mother, you said?" Liselle started again more peacefully.

"I did say that."

"Can you say anything to me? I mean... can you just tell me, what _sort_ of things?"

Wasea developed a pale light of fascination in her eyes. "Why would you want to know? Hasn't your mother told you all about her colorful past? No? Of course not. She's too selfish. And here's her daughter, staggering around in the dark, expected by everyone to follow in her mother's footsteps when she doesn't even know what they were." She grasped the bottle of rum by its neck, languidly working the cap off as if considering whether she should have another glass. "Aria likes her secrets. She likes being different things to different people. One life just wasn't enough for her, so she decided to have many."

Liselle gave a tentative pause, vastly interested in what Wasea knew but unsure of how to go about extracting a bit of that knowledge. "So you've known her as someone else?"

"I have. By a different name. An old name. She made sure to obliterate every last trace of it from anything that could potentially lead back to her, but some people have long lives, long memories. She keeps an eye on those people, naturally. I could never tell you the name, though. She'd have my throat slit in the night, if she ever found out." Her words trailed off, their morbid yet snide cadence fading into nothingness. It was resurrected when she added in an afterthought, "She might even take pleasure in doing it herself."

"How old was that name?" Liselle further investigated.

Wasea stared for a few long seconds, processing her options. "The rules are implicit. If I give names, addresses, dates, things like that, I'll be dead within the week. Vague anecdotes aren't on that list, and wouldn't it be nice to tell her own daughter things she won't talk about?" She toyed with the idea, very much liking the notion of using Liselle against Aria in that manner; divulging her in things that Aria never planned to tell her. It was an excellent mode of petty revenge for the agreement Aria had proposed, and no real harm would come of it aside from irritating her if Liselle ever revealed her knowledge. The plan was made from spite, concentrated spite, but the more she thought of it, the more it appealed to her. She began smirking, reaching down to the desk's drawer and sliding it open to retrieve a second glass and a new bottle of drink. She placed the glass in front of Liselle, tipping the bottle to fill it while dryly saying at length, "It was her birth name."


	13. Familiar Strangers II

After spending a considerable amount of time cautiously addressing the onslaught of questions regarding Aria T'Loak, Tevos was grateful for Farala's generous and insightful suggestion to "speak of less unsavory characters". They transitioned into more wholesome topics, freeing Tevos from the nerve-wracking tribulation as their company idly toured around the halls and rooms for the next hour. Their continued discourse and gossip was trimmed with gentle laughs while they strode beneath the healthy beams of light pouring in from high and heavenly windows.

The aura of luxury and goodness pacified them. Even Laiene and Nerava were maintaining miraculous peace after their intense disagreement in the foyer. The connection between the two was quite the remarkable one, Tevos believed. She could vividly recall that since childhood, the pair had always been found with little physical distance between them despite their extraordinary differences and tendency to quarrel, observed in the way that both seemed to orbit one another with the gravity of twin planets locked together by some cosmic force of spiritual sisterhood.

When the time arrived to eat, the group retreated into a commodious central dining hall specifically designed for entertaining droves. There too the ceiling was of a divine altitude, the tables long, and the floors polished so meticulously that their amber surfaces seemed to glow with warmth. A soft murmur of voices permeated the area, as did the sounds of cutlery and glasses being handled by the socializing guests as they deliberately seated themselves amongst the most reputable company present.

The food was marvelous by popular opinion—each platter fantastically laid out with flower-like disks of spiced meats on beds of vibrant green dresses, plates laden with curious packages of vegetables wrapped by broad leaves to be directly cut into and consumed as they were, lovely silver flagons containing the richest wines available, and perfectly-stacked pyramids constructed of small baked orbs with shells made of soft sweet bread and their cores containing tart berry preserves. Just after all were seated did a small stranger, not yet of school age and dressed prettily, make herself known after wandering into their midst. She immediately captured the attention of Nerava, who lifted the child into her lap and admonishingly, albeit gently, said to the little girl, "Elisia, I thought you were with your sister! And you've scuffed your shoes..."

While Nerava fretted over her surprisingly autonomous daughter, Tevos unconsciously developed a small smile at the scene of her cousin dusting off the girl's attire and clicking her tongue at the sight of a few small, rough blemishes corrupting the perfect gloss on her black shoes. Elisia spoke back to her mother, giving an account in her little voice about the events leading up to their surprise rendezvous. At that time Nerava received a call, holding onto Elisia's hand and apologizing to those seated around her while she answered it. It was the aforementioned elder sibling expressing her distress from having looked away for but a moment and tragically lost sight of her baby sister. Her fears were placated when Nerava informed her of the girl's whereabouts.

During the short few moments when Elisia's mother was distracted, she had turned her bright eyes in Tevos's direction, scrutinizing her and her companions with the blatant curiosity of childhood. The councilor returned the gaze with her faint smile, but only succeeded in making the girl's eyes widen further. As Nerava had finished her brief conversation, her daughter had prepared a remark for Tevos and gave it without fear, "I've seen you on the news!"

Everyone found her statement endearing. Her mother elaborated on Tevos's identity to the girl, giving a simplified explanation of their family relation and making a small but significant note of the councilor's prestige as the holder of said occupation. Judging by Elisia's facial expressions, she was suddenly caught in a peculiar conundrum: Tevos was apparently family, but also an individual of extreme importance. But was Tevos a friendly sort of relative, or was she too high-ranking to be trifled with? Suspicion and confusion was the result, and seeing it arise in the child's face instilled a vague sinking sensation in Tevos's heart.

Once appetites had been sated without crossing into overindulgence, the group reentered a lively discussion regarding the frigid climate of Kynias. Elisia's older sister eventually came by to retrieve her, lingering just long enough to greet her extended aunts and to meet Tevos for the first time. By then, the multiple candid visits by family members had inspired them to entertain the topic of their children and marriages. And inevitably, the conversation's spotlight came to illuminate Tevos as well, to her dismay. Questions were sent in her direction in an attempt to discern the number and quality of romantic interests the councilor had mingled with over the years (to which she responded with a claim of privacy) and lighthearted quips were made about her defiance of her name's origin.

Tevos, whose name had apparently been derived from the minor, archaic goddess lending _her_ name to the planet Tevura, had done little to adequately propitiate the deity of love and sex. Feeling a bit more comfortable than before, Tevos humorously reminded her relatives that Tevura also hailed from the dominion of law.

"I have little time for any of it," she confessed to them at last, after spending some time dodging the majority of their questions and curiosities. "Surely you understand."

"Of course, of course," Laiene apologetically replied. "I can hardly fathom the responsibilities you must attend to every day... But, if I may ask, do you ever consider someday retiring to that lifestyle, or do you rather consider yourself married to your job and causes, so to speak?"

Tevos considered the question. "That's fairly accurate, I suppose," she said. "The part about being married to my job. It's quite interesting, yes..." Her eyes dropped down to the cloth napkin she had been idly and discreetly fondling with her fingertips, ceasing those motions once she became aware of them. It was not so regal or becoming of the asari councilor to be seen fidgeting in public. "There is simply little time or effort to be reserved for anyone," she decided. "But perhaps when I retire I shall give it some thought."

"When you retire?" Irissa echoed her statement with an amused smile. "When you retire, all your time will have been spent. This isn't to say that you aren't being wise, because you're completely correct in assuming that new relationships and family would be cumbersome for you... But with that said, sometimes I say to myself, if not now, then when?"

"If I recall correctly, that advice did not produce ideal results for you," Tevos playfully jabbed back, exercising vagueness out of courtesy for her friend's personal business. She raised her glass of wine to her lips to hide the small smile forming there, and to stop herself from saying any more on the subject.

Irissa laughed, seeming unoffended and relatively comfortable with discussing what Tevos was speaking of. "My workaholic friend the councilor is referring to a marriage I recently entered and exited over the last half-century," she said mirthfully.

"It lasted but ten of those years," Tevos politely added.

"And ten too many, if you ask me."

Their amusement with Irissa's remark was apparent, and Tevos was glad to have drawn attention away from herself. Discussing, or even thinking about her personal life had always made Tevos uneasy. Most days her mind was already too deeply immersed in her work to accommodate any superfluous thoughts, and during times when she _did_ seriously ponder about her life, she often left herself more anxious and overwhelmed than she would've normally preferred.

At the back of her mind, Tevos had always fondly entertained the idea of one day having some type of family unit, even if only briefly, and at least having one daughter in her lifetime. But as years went by, and as Tevos's position as councilor continued to solidify, the further away she felt from ever actually realizing that reverie. And so she would try in vain to mend her growing sense of disappointment and worry by uttering the mantra of _later,_ _when there is time_ inside her head until the words, worn thin by empty overuse, had lost their meaning and effect.

Just when Tevos had begun to lose herself to her own evolving sea of thoughts, she was pulled from the depths upon hearing Nerava speak of a time when there were no thoughts of children—for there was a time when they had been children themselves. It was made known to Tevos's additional guests that while Farala was the eldest, Tevos was the youngest of their small tribe. But since so few years separated them all, it was natural for the cousins to have banded together during those young, clumsy ages. Farala recounted a story from centuries ago, on the day of another forgone house party, when the four of them had (comparable to what Elisia had done just a few minutes previously) managed to slip away unnoticed from the watchful gaze of adult supervision.

Bundled up tightly in their fancy winter costumes of coats with high collars diligently laced up around their vulnerable necks to keep the chill at bay, and with their small hands resting inside warm gloves fashioned in corresponding proportions, their company vanished into the bleak wood beyond the estate. There was some present debate amongst the relatives over whether it had been snowing at the time. As they had walked, antagonizing handfuls of snow were exchanged between Nerava and Laiene, who were bickering over the proper ownership of a perfect walking stick spotted at the base of a tree. Farala had led them, telling the two lagging behind to keep up while Tevos had spent most of the adventure expressing her fears about the awful lecture their mothers would inevitably give them upon their return to the estate.

 _"We're going to get in trouble!"_ Farala quoted the child Tevos, coaxing out smiles from them all, including Tevos herself.

After an indeterminate amount of time spent trudging through the icy drifts, leaving a visible trail of footprints to mark their journey back, the four came upon a familiar river they would visit during the spring and summer months; standing barefooted and ankle-deep in its waters to watch the glittering minnows dart about in the gentle currents, like pure flickers of silvery-blue light. But now, in the middle of winter, the river had frozen over and the happy chatter of the rippling and gurgling waters had turned gravely silent. They explored and found that traversing the cover of ice only resulted in slips and bruises and false steps that sent ominous cracks bursting out from beneath their weight. A retreat was swiftly made. With one mode of travel eliminated, they looked elsewhere, and located the old makeshift fallen-log bridge they'd cross during the warm months. Farala bravely went ahead first, pausing to turn back once she reached the middle of the log-bridge and urged Tevos to follow. The youngest girl had hesitated, once again voicing her disapproval and worries about the whole situation until assured that if she didn't follow, the rest of their group would go on without her. Abhorring the idea of letting her foolish cousins fend for themselves without her wise counsel (as Farala comically inferred), Tevos had proceeded.

A few shaky steps were placed, and then, tragically, Tevos had slipped on the thin glaze of ice coating the log. While tumbling down to the frozen surface of the lake a relatively short distance below, the side of Tevos's leg had been caught against a broken stump that once held a branch—now made as solid as concrete by the low temperatures settling over the region—and the sharp protrusion sliced right through the material encasing her small thin leg, cutting deeply enough to pierce her flesh. The gash was forgotten until Tevos lay on a web of splinters in the ice, scaring away from the sight of water seeping in from beneath her body and dampening her coat. She had scrambled away on instinct, only to realize a terrible pain shooting up from the area around her ankle as she escaped the danger. Once she had shakily and fearfully dragged herself back onto the icy bank, Tevos had curled her leg in close to her body to examine the source of her sudden agony, and found a stream of deep violet pouring onto the snow, staining its immaculate white.

Tears of fright had streamed down her face when her wide-eyed cousins assembled at her side. Frantic thinking lead to the resolution of sending someone back for help—a duty Farala took upon herself—and the remaining two would stay at Tevos's side, consoling and helping her make a rudimentary, temporary patch over her wound until more capable aid arrived.

Eventually, Farala returned to the frozen river with Tevos's half-sister Iona in tow, who immediately dropped to her side, inspected her injury, and wrapped it up with an handkerchief carried on her person. The turian lifted Tevos up into her arms, carrying her while leading the remaining three unharmed children all the way back to the estate, where she evaded inquiring relatives who would've adored creating a dramatized fiasco out of the incident if given the chance. While properly patching Tevos up, Iona reprimanded the young sniffling asari, sternly telling her to never wander away again without her. It had been said out of sheer concern for Tevos—the councilor herself commented—for Iona had virtually doubled as a second mother to Tevos during that phase of her life.

The group at the table then began to speak of Iona Maevian, to whom Tevos had been closely attached throughout her youth. Iona had even been present to meet Tevos on the day she was born, remarked Farala, retrieving that fact from a well of family history carefully preserved in her mind. Iona had recently completed her mandatory civic service on Palaven, migrated to Thessia to meet her new family, and ultimately ended up staying on the asari homeworld for a little more than a decade.

While the relationship between Iona and Tevos's mother was best described as cordial yet distant, between Iona and Tevos herself one would have immense difficulty in finding a pair of siblings connected by a stronger bond. Evidence of that assertion was easily found in countless old pictures of the two captured together—the young Tevos seen with big, bright green eyes, clad in velvety dresses of somber winter hues beside the blue-eyed, tall, and dignified Iona—and it was common knowledge amongst their extended family that wherever Iona went, Tevos was likely to be found somewhere nearby, either attached to Iona at the hand, or toted along in her arms. Although Tevos gradually outgrew Iona's arms, she never managed to outgrow her company. The adoration the future asari councilor had for her sister never wavered, even as she left an early adolescence characterized by near-muteness and constant inquiring stares, and grew into a young adult with exceptional manners, natural effortless charm, and a blooming interest in social issues and law.

A point came during the reminiscing when Tevos commented on her initial desire to become a legal advocate, only to soon identify talents that would one day better suit her for the arbitration of public policy. But by that time in her life—shortly after completing her education and securing an occupation—Iona had grown old, tired, and like the other turian members of her immediate family before her, passed away when Tevos was still a young maiden. It was a horrifically sad affair for her, more traumatizing than the death of her father some decades previously, and the suffering endured in the following months and years was hardly mitigated even when she obsessively recited her race's traditional philosophies about embracing death and impermanence as a recycling of life.

Like all things in the universe, the mourning diminished with the unending seasons of passing time, and life continued. The sky's blue had not faded, birdsongs did not turn sour amid the trees, and flowers still blossomed radiantly in the spring.

Even so, the thought of solitude, of being named the sole survivor of her immediate family over the last few spells of time, subjected Tevos to a state of powerful melancholy. She kept it hidden with a small, comely smile while they chatted for the duration of another half hour, before their table was cautiously approached by a servant bearing a message for the councilor. To Tevos's surprise and mild confusion, a 'Matriarch Medora' was requesting an audience with her at that time. The name rang portentously familiar in her head, bringing the councilor to a suspicion that something was amiss. She knew Medora rather well, and knew that she had risen to hold a prominent position amongst those constituting Asari High Command.

 _Foreboding indeed_ , Tevos grimly thought to herself while politely apologizing to the other asari at the table. Hundreds of fears flooded her mind at once. She collected her C-Sec guards and began to head into the halls, traveling around a single bend to find the dourly-dressed matriarch awaiting her where she stood gazing out of a vast window and at the fading stain of violet evening light glistening on the snow, vaguely reminding Tevos of the blood she had once spilt upon it long, long ago.

Eye contact was established upon Tevos's approach. While the councilor sent a questioning, puzzled gaze, it was returned with grave yet collected urgency. The look instantly filled Tevos's heart with dread.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

As the glass set before Liselle was steadily filled with drink, the girl had taken to staring at the stream of liquid and its pourer with wide, astounded eyes. _Aria's birth name_ , Wasea had said. A birth name. A title given by _parents_ to a young, innocent, and harmless _infant_ —states of being which were immensely difficult to associate with someone like Aria, as Liselle discovered while mentally attempting to do just that. To the majority of people who knew her, or who knew of her, Aria could never be compared to anything less than a natural disaster in magnitude of presence. For there to have ever lasted an era of time during which she was a small, fragile creature was an utterly bizarre notion indeed. The more Liselle ruminated about it the deeper her interest grew.

When she took up her glass, Liselle offhandedly recalled a memory of her thirtieth birthday. After retiring to her bedroom on that specific day, Liselle had found a bottle of expensive imported Illium honey mead sitting on her desk with a card strung around its neck, upon which the simple message ' _Ration it'_ was scrawled in her mother's handwriting. That instance certainly wasn't the first time she tasted liquor, but it _was_ the first time she had been gifted a bottle all to herself. Acquiring alcoholic beverages for oneself—despite the lack of regulation on Omega and for asari in general, as the race's pre-spacefaring history was often fondly described as 'one long inebriated festival'—felt very much like desperate self-validation, but as a gift it expressed Aria's acknowledgement of her daughter's maturing tastes. In celebration, the bottle was gone within a few nights against Aria's advisement.

This drink in her hand was not the same honey mead she had imbibed over two decades ago, but when she sipped it, the peculiar fire descending through the core of her chest offered her the comforts and pangs of nostalgia. Feeling a bit less fearful around Wasea than she had initially, Liselle asked her, "How did you know my mother's name? Did she tell you, or... you found a mention of it somewhere?"

Wasea spent a moment articulating her thoughts and anecdotes without crossing lines where Aria had demarcated nonessential information. The decision to enlighten Liselle about a few select historical events was certainly risky, and only worthwhile for the satisfaction of defying the great Aria T'Loak and making an ally of her precious daughter. For in a domain where reputation and pride often trumped firepower in importance, defaming or embarrassing Aria in any way would easily produce the same offensive as plunging a knife into her shoulder. Extreme diligence would have to be exercised.

"I've been in the Eclipse for a long time," Wasea began. "Been posted on many worlds, participated in a lot of operations, killed a _lot_ of people." She absently tapped her finger onto the desk, at the base of her emptied glass, eliciting a slow and steady pattern of sound. "About sixty years ago my division, at the order of our captain, was called to Omega. They needed extra support—more outposts—since Sederis had recently made a pact with Aria and wanted to take advantage of their friendly terms by installing a stronger Eclipse presence on Omega. When I first heard that my division was about to be relocated, I thought to myself, _Right. There's a new feudal lord reigning over that festering station. Another maniac with a fifteen-minute regime._ I did some research into it to refresh my knowledge and found out the de facto claim had been made by an asari named Aria T'Loak. The name meant absolutely nothing to me at the time. But when I saw Aria's picture..."

"You recognized her?" wondered Liselle.

"I did," Wasea confirmed. "After my division settled down on Omega—found a half-decent place among these spires where the air was remotely breathable, I mean—I decided to investigate. I went to Afterlife, spent nearly an hour in line, and finally requested an audience with Aria. After _another_ hour I was let through to her lounge. And there was _the Queen_ , sitting beneath the glow of holographic fires and adverts, looking superior and self-assured. Deep crimson red closing in on all sides. Suffocating you. Aria asked what I wanted, and I said I just wanted to look at her for a minute. What she said to _that_ I remember vividly: 'A lot of people want to look at me, but most of them settle for extranet depictions'."

Liselle nearly sputtered into her drink, strangling back her urge to laugh and cough as a sharp burn of alcohol flared up behind her nose. Across from her, Wasea was not smiling.

"She told me to cut to the chase and tell her what I _really_ wanted," the elder asari tartly continued, increasing the volume of her voice to bring a swift end to Liselle's amusement. "I told her that I had to come see for myself just how far an old colleague made it. Aria must have made some subtle gesture that I didn't notice, but at that point I was encircled by her thugs. They pressed their guns to the side of my head. I froze, never once taking my eyes off of Aria as she descended from her little throne with this _arrogant_ leisure that makes me seethe whenever I see it. Strolling down, taking her sweet time... Asked me if I knew how many other people she had encountered over the years who claimed to have known her as one of her past incarnations. She met me face-to-face, took a better look at me, and I think she recognized me as well. Then she wondered aloud about what to do with me, how to _dispose_ of me."

As Liselle could hear from her voice's tightly-strung cadence, Wasea was developing caustic, ancient anger in her words; aggressive, intolerant, and restless.

"I initially tried worming my way out of that predicament by telling her who I was. A high-ranking Eclipse officer. I reminded her that I was a valuable asset to Jona Sederis, who wouldn't appreciate seeing Aria arbitrarily 'disposing' of her organization's resources whenever she felt like it. Might reflect badly on Aria's integrity concerning their pact, I pointed out. But she said she didn't care what Sederis thought of her. She said Sederis would have to deal with _anything_ she decided to do. Bend to her whims, accommodate her, because Omega was Aria's now and everyone else had to either let her have her way or get shot. She had me at gunpoint." Wasea reclined in her chair and interlocked her fingers together. "But I kept my cool. I said it was a disappointment, that the great and omnipotent Aria T'Loak was so fragile that being haunted by a ghost of the past—by just the memory of a _little girl_ —was enough to threaten her entire regime. I said it was pathetic. I said it was sad." She pulled her fingers apart. "Back then, you could still successfully make appeals to her conceit. These days Aria's too experienced. Too pragmatic, too haughty, too paranoid. If you said the same to her face today she'd laugh at you and throw you into a pit of vorcha. But back then, it worked. Aria, so enthralled with the idea of herself, with her image as insurmountable and perpetual, let me go. She wanted to prove a point, I think, to herself. Prove that the past couldn't harm or destroy her."

"You could've used her name against her, though," Liselle pointed out. "You could've really hurt her in that way, if her name really did still hold dangerous connections to her past. My mother must have realized that. Did she really take that kind of risk?"

Wasea said nothing at first, spending that initial moment of silence deeply thinking while staring at Aria's well-guarded offspring. "If I had spread the information and if any ill had come from it, she would've had me killed," she finally gave her answer. "I think Aria was fairly confident that I wouldn't be stupid enough to talk. And from my perspective, I was rather satisfied with just having insulted her, played her, and escaped with my life. Although, she watched me very carefully forever afterward, since I'd become a variable of _some_ concern. Something also tells me that she thought I'd be useful to her at some point. I suppose she was right."

"How did you know who she was in the first place?" Liselle asked.

"We both grew up in the same city, on one of the Ianthian isles."

Liselle heard the statement, but as her mind received it for processing the notion stalled and trembled as if it were ambivalently confused about how to be interpreted. Her lips went ajar in astonishment and disbelief. Unable to properly resolve her predicament, she merely laughed and said to Wasea, "You're shitting me."

A fleeting light of amused pride rose to life in Wasea's eyes. "I first met her when we were embarrassingly young, living in Ianthe; a _gorgeous_ archipelago on Thessia with systems of monorails linking the individual islands together, gleaming like bolts of silver flying over clear blue waters stretching on for kilometers in every direction..." She made a slow, illustrative sweeping gesture with her hand as she was overcome by the old memory. "Sleek towers shimmering with the reflected orange and violet of the evening sun like torches lit for the night, illuminating the beaches easily found by traveling in any direction you pleased. Warm all year round. Lively cities, constant parties and events, _beautiful_ properties for sale. Quality food, unlike the half-rotten shit you find on Omega. You could breathe in deeply and fill your lungs without choking on heavy, foul air..."

"How old were you?" Liselle asked, finding herself bearing a faint yet intrigued smile. An anticipatory excitement billowed within her at the sheer idea of Aria living a very different life in a drastically different place.

Wasea replied, "Around our first decade, I think. After centuries, the years start blending together into one big mass. But ten is usually the age when asari start their education on Thessia, so it was during one of my first years of primary schooling. Do you know anything about asari education standards?"

Liselle shook her head. "I'm not familiar with them. I had to educate myself—well, Iaera did a lot of it, especially when I was younger. She taught me to read, write, and basic arithmetic." The girl trailed off, suddenly overcome by a sobering sadness when she realized such days were over. "And I'm pretty sure my mother kept a close watch over how I was doing."

"What use is a dumb heir, huh?" Wasea quipped. "The Thessian education system is probably the most comprehensive in the galaxy. Salarians learn faster, and probably have better retention skills, but asari have the _time_ to learn a lot more. Whereas salarians specialize very early on, asari strive for a broad and complete education. So, naturally, we attend schools and universities for roughly forty to fifty years in total, depending on your chosen field of expertise. Like I said, I was in one of my earliest years when I first encountered a certain classmate who never wanted to smile unless you gave her a good enough reason to. She was eternally dissatisfied with her environment, as if nothing were acceptable. As if nothing as it was quite met her expectations. I didn't think much of her initially. I never really cared to know her. My only real memory of Aria from that time was when she gave another girl a bloody nose for bullying one of her friends for being a pureblood."

Wasea actually chuckled at the remembered scene, finding immense comedy in the old, preserved sight of a small Aria T'Loak clumsily struggling with another little girl, eventually ending in a stream of violet sprouting and running down the latter's face after being struck by a ferociously clenched fist. Meanwhile, the smile that had crept into Liselle's features broadened, revealing her fascination with the notion accompanied with a tinge of lasting incredulity and slight skepticism. She remained suspicious of Wasea's truthfulness, but when Liselle weighed the option of hearing the Eclipse officer out against the option of shutting the conversation down, the solution was quite clear.

"Do you remember what happened after that?" the girl inquired. "Did my mother get in trouble?"

"Absolutely, yes," Wasea said. "Fighting is a terrible offense for asari children on Thessia. Worse than stealing, worse than lying. I guess that says something about Aria, even back then. She takes care of her allies and has a patent disregard for rules."

Questions were briskly frothing up from Liselle's thoughts in tremendous numbers, leaving her mind and mouth stunned as they were unable to choose which to voice.

Wasea continued, "That was the only time I ever saw Aria's mother, your grandmother; when they called her up to get her troublemaker daughter. A tall and grim-looking matron, dressed as if she were on her way to a funeral. Probably strict as hell. After being divulged in what Aria had done to the other kid, she grabbed Aria's arm and presumably brought her home. I remember Aria resembling her a fair amount. Same eyes, particularly... I suppose that trait runs pretty strongly in your line. It's strange to remember, though. Makes you wonder if Aria's mother had any idea about what sort of storm was brewing in her arms when she held her kid for the first time." She gave a short, breathy laugh.

Liselle gave her silence, allowing her to continue uninterrupted.

"I didn't notice her around very often again until we were much older. Still in Ianthe, still finishing our education leading up to the advanced university level. _This_ was when she started pissing me off. You see, even when Aria was very young she sat comfortably in the highest tiers of social importance. _Always_ well-dressed with her elite, name-brand wardrobe. A fantastic skycar, confidence and charisma, independence, and a self-opinion that seemed to compare herself to fucking _Athame_. And to top it off, intellectual aptitudes. She always did well in her studies. That put her higher on the priority list for university applications. I don't think she ever went, though. Thessia's universities have some of the most competitive admissions in the galaxy. A lot of people end up rotting on wait lists, sitting around for _years_ before it's their turn to be admitted. Making mercenaries and dancers out of us because life's too structured and stressful that early on and maidens are always looking for excitement. A lot of us end up taking off and returning to school when we're approaching matron years. Until then we get into all sorts of trouble, and much of that group—" She touched the side of a balled fist to her upper chest, marking a reference to herself, "—never return to mainstream society."

The maiden cracked a small smile, thinking about the sheer number of dissidents from countless homeworlds continuously flocking to places like Omega for new, tumultuous lives. All living on that very station, despite their extreme variety, seemed to share that in common. They were all brought here by either chance of circumstance or of their own volition, but no matter what each situation consisted of, all fates began in the seed of discontent and a desire for something... unusual. A frontier. A wild edge of the universe still untouched by the abstract, binding constructs of law.

"But before we got a chance to take off," Wasea said, "us maidens were still stranded at home in the meantime. There were a lot of parties. Everyone wanted Aria at theirs and sometimes she showed up. I hated seeing her around. Watching her and her friends claim some territory for the night on a few sofas, drinking and smoking and acting like they were better than everyone else. And somehow she was still _everyone's_ favorite, and enough so to keep them from asking how she came across the credits required to maintain her comfortable lifestyle."

"You think she was already into crime?" asked Liselle.

"Drug running, almost definitely. That's what most people would mutter—that Aria was someone who could hook you up with good shit. Pricey but worth it. So I highly doubt she was holding down any sort of legitimate job. She could've easily been into mercenary work or weapon smuggling and dealing, too. They say she first killed in her forties. Some said it was an old mob feud. Some said it was someone squealing about her to the cops. Some said it was just over a girl. You see, Aria was never some brat throwing up gang signs and flashing pieces just to impress her friends. She was the real deal from day one—raw old-school mob material. She's a fucking sociopath, kid. Manipulative, unable to feel guilt, grandiose narcissism, controlling... Never loved anybody but herself. I stayed away back then. I stayed _far_ away, as well as I could. The smart ones still do."

 _Never loved anybody but herself_. The statement rang shrilly in Liselle's mind, darkening her spirits, and inflicting upon her a bleak, chilling fear.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Councilor Tevos was very much accustomed to feeling like the most important person in every room she happened to enter. There were only a few exceptions to that constant experience; when the population around her contained individuals such as other councilors with whom she shared the privilege of composing the Citadel Council, other powerful and intelligent leaders perched about the long incandescent arms of the galaxy such as Aria T'Loak, and the elusive matriarchs of Asari High Command.

It was _especially_ the case with Asari High Command, however. While Tevos held one-third of the Council's total power (an amount of such magnitude that it was immune to ridicule for being a fraction at all), able to overturn or amend important decisions if she truly desired to, the position itself was bestowed upon her as an overwhelming result of High Command's intervention.

Tevos was asari councilor because the matriarchs of Thessia had augmented her campaign with their public endorsements, and after taking advantage of how susceptible asari were to popular opinion, Tevos had been democratically elected by a comfortable margin. The reality of her circumstance was always set firmly in her mind. It was likely that she owed her victory to the support of the matriarchs, at least in a considerable part, and just as she stood upon their foundation of approval, a haunting possibility always lurked in the depths of her conscience: if High Command ever decided that an untimely change of asari councilor was necessary, drastic measures behind the curtains enshrouding their circle _would_ be taken to see that clandestine mandate realized.

 _Is that what's happening?_ Tevos worriedly pondered. _Is that why my luck has been running so terribly afoul over the past weeks? Is Matriarch Medora only here to present me with some kind of blackmail-resembling ultimatum with my job security held for ransom?_

They were dreadful thoughts indeed, channeled into steady footfalls that shared all the heavy anticipation simmering in her chest. She approached the matriarch and braced herself. She gathered her cleverest words, preparing an insurmountable defense against whatever trouble may come, and presented herself as the result of centuries of dedicated, trained personal discipline: regal, exalted, and immensely capable.

Medora observed the councilor's composed arrival, then turned back toward the window when Tevos reached her side. "I had planned to allow you to finish enjoying your family's regalement before requesting a private audience with you," she said to her, speaking slowly, carefully, and quietly. "But I have since received additional news of worrisome severity and sensitivity."

Tevos studied the side of the matriarch's face as she spoke, and by the time she had closed her foreboding greeting, the councilor's eyes were wide and alert with realization. Something _was_ terribly amiss, judging by Medora's ambiguity and implied suggestion that the two asari politicians would be needing uttermost privacy. With a gesture and a few words, Tevos commanded her guards to fall back some distance; not out of sight, but certainly far enough so that they would not overhear their whispers. They hesitated, expressing acute discomfort with the situation, but eventually complied.

When the guards had reassembled in the form of two separate groups at the far ends of the visible stretches of hall, Medora inhaled deeply, preparing to speak again. Her hands folded behind her back in the way Tevos remembered seeing from her throughout all the years she had known her—always perturbed, dismal, and pensive, perpetually on the uncertain edge of the changing ages.

"Spectres are a very curious tool, are they not?" inquired the matriarch. "Agents of the Council, yet they do not abide by their laws. Instead, as I understand them, the Council assigns them a new set of parameters designed to moderate their conduct just enough to create a sense of structure, but not enough to infringe upon the level of entropy that makes them remarkably successful. It is a project that requires no small amount of balance. Extreme attention to detail is exercised by the Council when using these agents. No errors must be made, for Spectres have often been instrumental in massive galactic shifts of both policy and power. But there's another danger—if Spectres are free from the bindings of law, and if the Council oversees their actions, then who checks the Council's ethical utilization of these resources?"

Her voice slowed toward the end, at which the inquiry hung auspiciously in the air between them as she pivoted her body to face the councilor. Tevos gave her an inquisitive silence, sensing that there was something more that Medora still had to reveal before Tevos would have a proper foundation upon which she could construct an answer. She was not incorrect. Medora started again.

"Naturally, there would arise times when this compartment of Council prerogative drifts into the unwanted spotlight. You see, everything is connected. The Council is not wholly independent of the governments where each member hails from. The Citadel Council is merely a mode of consensus and compromise between our peoples. Councilors generally reflect the wills of their people. Councilors are responsible for giving their race a voice in galactic conference. But—as you've definitely experienced—councilors are not solely hosts for whatever ideas and wills their species have put forward. Councilors have minds and agendas of their own, and sometimes they manifest more often than some people would prefer."

Tevos's inquiring expression never faltered as she decided to prod Medora into communicating more clearly, "Has something happened? Has there been... dialogue amongst certain groups?"

The volume of Medora's voice dropped even further, occupying a level of audibility that had Tevos straining to hear. "Your Spectre has been found."

The words cut into Tevos like a blade. She was upon the revelation immediately, practically hissing her exigent response, "My Spectre? Spectre Neora?"

A single nod confirmed her understanding.

Councilor Tevos was devastated. _Aria_ was supposed to have found Neora, she reasoned as the fringe of reactionary denial was filtered away from her thoughts. _Aria_ was searching for her Spectre, and only a few days had passed since she began combing through the endless Omegan metal jungles for the small, desecrated body of poor Spectre Neora. How could someone like Aria, the head of a syndicate so turgid with resources and capable operatives, fail in that endeavor?

"How?" the councilor voiced her incredulity. "Who could've found her? And how did you come to know this while I remained in the dark?" She hadn't consciously inserted a tone of mild accusation, but it leaked through her words and was detected by Medora.

"This is the reason why I decided to chat with you earlier than I originally planned," she answered with a ghost of a grimace. "It is because this information was passed onto me not ten minutes ago. Your own networks are likely scrambling to make sense of it as we speak." The light of an omni-tool flickered on their bodies. "A column of obscure forum-based origins has gone viral over the last hour or so. My sources initially characterized it as an intelligence leak, but this description crumbled when we realized that it did not come from the inside. Rather, Spectre Neora's body was happened upon by a group of Omega denizens who were able to identify her, took extensive photo documentation, then arranged their findings in a lengthy article accusing the Council of instigating a proxy war over the custody of Omega."

Councilor Tevos was utterly stunned and momentarily unable to speak. "A _proxy war?"_ She eventually found her voice again. "On what evidence was this accusation made?"

"They restored parts of the computer in Neora's hardsuit. The data they managed to recover contained the orders she was given by the Council—orders that involved stepping into the strife on Omega to defend Aria T'Loak's rule despite the Council's declared neutrality on the matter." With a few motions, Medora sent a copy of the document she was referencing to Tevos, who was paling at an alarming rate. "Essentially, you sent Neora to her death. She fought and failed, dying as harbinger to something quite larger in scale. A prelude to war. According to your defamers, the Council is secretly expending resources and Spectres to protect their interests, and this project will soon evolve into a situation where money and special operatives are funneled into Miss T'Loak's syndicate under the pretense of peace preservation."

Tevos began to hurriedly skim through the document, unable to quell the slight tremble in her index finger as she scrolled. To her immense horror, pictures accompanied the words; photos of a mangled, charred body with pieces of scorched blue armor still clinging to its mutilated frame. Around the corpse stood a ring of masked figures with eerie atomic green nodules mottling their black armor suits, positioning Neora's body for lurid shots detailing the hellish conditions that consumed her at the moment of death. When another shot of the body found Tevos's eyes—a view of what seemed to be the remnants of a face, identified by the ivory edge of a cheekbone and eye socket from where flesh had roasted, blackened, and curled away—she brought a hand to clasp over her mouth in shock. The councilor felt distinctly unwell. Her limbs were weak, and an incessant tug in her heart matched the one that churned her stomach. She tore her eyes away from the gruesome account, unable to gaze at the remains of her Spectre any longer.

"It isn't true," she shakily said to Medora, struggling to swallow her distress. "It is _not_ true... The Council has made a firm decision to formally stay out of Terminus System affairs. And I have made _no_ exception to that."

"I assume that policy is in place because the people of the Council races do not want to see _anything_ being donated to Omega, let alone the Terminus Systems," the matriarch grimly remarked, watching as Tevos closed the document and looked out the window in dread. "People are asking questions, Councilor. Even the millions who aren't so quick to give these Omegan 'vigilantes' absolute credibility cannot ignore the fact that you are up to something. People want to know why your Spectre is dead, and why there was sufficient motive for an Omega-based group to end her."

Tevos was initially silent, noticing that the matriarch's statement was more than relaying common questions held by the general public—they also revealed that Medora too would've liked to hear their corresponding answers from the asari councilor herself.

"It's a complete distortion of reality," Tevos said, meeting her gaze. "Neora was on Omega solely to investigate the source of our drug outbreak, and to make certain that none of it had originated from Aria T'Loak. I merely wanted to absolve Aria so the Council could focus its efforts on our true offenders. Nothing in her orders even suggested in the _slightest_ becoming directly involved in the conflicts on Omega."

"Then it appears that these vigilantes have an ulterior agenda of their own."

The councilor paused. "Yes, it would appear so," she agreed at length.

"Do you know what it could be?"

Medora was just as perceptive as Tevos remembered, for the councilor did in fact have a very good idea of what these people were trying to accomplish. The trouble in telling the matriarch, however, would inevitably lead into a conversation she much rather not have. From what Tevos recalled from her recent appeal to Asari High Command regarding what policies would be in place during Omega's times of elevated turmoil, Medora had remained utterly silent, voicing neither approval nor disapproval. As a result, Tevos had absolutely no idea where the matriarch stood on the matter. For all she knew, telling Medora about her suspicions, and plan of subsequent action, could end in alienation. And Tevos was certainly becoming hard-pressed for allies.

The matriarch's perceptiveness manifested again when she said to the hesitant asari councilor, "I can see your unease. You know not whether I will aid or hinder your efforts when you speak of your stances again. But I assure you—while Asari High Command may have grown somewhat estranged from you as of late, not all of its members resent your convictions on the matter. You aren't alone."

Tevos peered at her with interest. "You oppose their majority will?"

Medora made a strange, fleeting face at her question, as if reluctantly contorting at its truthfulness. Instead of answering directly, she backpedaled to the beginning, aiming to give Tevos a holistic view of what her plans were. "You see, Councilor... Aria T'Loak is our most intensively-watched person in the Terminus Systems. And of the galaxy, she captures second place while the Batarian Hegemony takes first, ever since it began drifting back into reclusive, totalitarian preferences. But Miss T'Loak makes Asari High Command _very_ nervous, Councilor. She is always amassing her armies, always developing new tactics and technologies, always gaining power and infamy. High Command subscribes to the fear of her one day leading a campaign into the Attican Traverse, where Council races have many enterprises but almost no regular patrols or garrisons. This encroachment would be of immense strategic value to Aria T'Loak, and she would meet little resistance aside from our admonishment and tearing up our treaties. Asari High Command has recognized your impressive ability to keep her in check, but they also believe it will no longer be effective after a few more years. They are gradually convincing themselves that taking action now is imperative, for they may not ever have a chance like this again. Aria T'Loak is not the same conquerer we dealt with fifty years ago. She's far more dangerous now."

Tevos folded her hands behind her back, gazing out of the window with the matriarch. A few meters below their elevated position, some children were playing in the snow under the light of a lamp bordering the walkway they had stepped off from. They were throwing the snow at one another, laughing and staggering about in the drifts. The councilor slowly inhaled, and quietly said to Medora, "Aria indeed may not be the same person she was years ago. I agree."

Medora met her eyes.

"She's become even more intelligent. More formidable. More innovative." Tevos looked at her adamantly. "But so have I."

A faint smile appeared on the matriarch's face—an unexpected reaction to Tevos's assertion, as was the nature of her spoken response, "Which is exactly why you still have support. And not just from myself. There are others in High Command, and amongst the matriarchs altogether, who feel the same; who feel that it is not our place to dictate the fate of distant worlds who do not aspire to cause us harm. We are a minority, yes. What we intend to do about this is atrociously undemocratic. But we feel that your policy is essential to the health of our peoples, and so we act defiantly. Especially now, because we are running out of time. You have not been informed of it, but Asari High Command has been taking weekly votes on whether to activate its sleeping agents on Omega to help depose Aria T'Loak. We need a three-fourths majority to proceed, and we are rapidly approaching that number. At every preceding deliberation, more and more controversies are brought to light and they siphon our resistant numbers to the other side. As a matter of fact, just yesterday we received news from some of our agents previously stationed on Omega, who had been discovered by Aria T'Loak. Their secrets were _beaten_ from their bodies and they were sent back to Thessia bearing _threats_ from Miss T'Loak herself. For some individuals, this reinforced the idea that Aria T'Loak truly is a legitimate threat who needs to be curbed."

The councilor succumbed to the weight of abject dismay. Her expression dropped into fear for an instant when she realized just what had happened—Aria had found the agents, dealt with them, and in summary, completely neglected to inform her Citadel correspondent of anything that had transpired. Aside from the rising, tragically familiar burn of indignation, Tevos also began to suffer from a case of painful regret, for if they had not been so impulsive, if they had only waited a few days longer, Tevos could've approached Aria with Medora's updates safely tucked in mind and altered their plan of action accordingly to prevent their current predicament.

A pair of fingers rose to pinch the bridge of her nose. The councilor felt weary again, as if her cognitive being were stretched out over a vast amount territory, wrought thin and diaphanous as the sky above her head developed a lattice of cracks and began spilling its shards in a political, war-speckled birth of a vicious oncoming hail. After she persevered through the most agonizing stings of her despair, Tevos came onto another idea stemming from a prior observation. A question of dire importance which she surprised herself by not having asked before.

"Medora," she said, capturing the matriarch's complete attention, "If Asari High Command has been casting votes on whether to enter the fray by their own conventions... then they have made no attempt on Aria T'Loak's life thus far."

Medora gave a knowing smile. "You thought we were behind it all, did you?" She exhaled derisively. "I don't blame you for suspecting us, nor do I think that your instincts were frivolous. I honesty would've thought the same, had I been in your position. But no, Councilor. Asari High Command has not yet given itself permission to deal violence unto Aria T'Loak."

At the matriarch's words, Tevos felt a peculiar wave of relief and dismay, both rolled into one, wash over her. Relief for finding her political base not complicit with the ones responsible for the recent atrocities, and dismay for the fact that their exoneration now introduced Tevos to an abrupt dead-end. She sighed almost inaudibly, clinging to the lonely grain of good news scavenged from the terrible wreckage piling up in monstrous deposits.

"Miss T'Loak thought the very same of us, told by the... _colorful_ message she sent us," Medora said.

Tevos regarded her.

"We know you spoke with her a few days ago. She had an appointment in the Embassies with you. High Command suspects that you've a hand in this incident, and it does not presently bode well."

Councilor Tevos stalled just a moment before responding with a flat, "I see."

"Did you tell Miss T'Loak anything?"

"I revealed my suspicions and nothing further," she lied. Atonement for her transgression would have to be addressed at a later time. Tevos simply failed to see a proper method of telling Medora about just how closely she and Aria had been working. As much as Medora might have agreed with her on many accounts, opening up Asari High Command's database to a Terminus-space mob boss was something completely beyond forgiveness. "It appears that once Aria had a target in mind, she knew exactly what to look for."

"Where does she stand with you?" Medora inquired. "Are relations stable?"

 _Certain aspects of that are still an enigma_ , Tevos quipped within her mind. "I've made it very clear that while the Council is claiming complete neutrality, I do not wish her ill," she said. "Enough trust exists for her to take my word on that, fortunately. I've told her that the fight on Omega is her fight alone, and my only role in all this shall be to ensure that the Citadel and its peoples don't end up doing battle with her as well."

"And in light of the tragedy that befell your Spectre... do you intend to pull the rest of them out of Omega?"

"I did, during a brief window of time when Aria set up a strict prohibition. But when that was resolved, I redeployed two. Spectre Lerath and Spectre Tela are on Omega right now, but after seeing such ghastly confirmation that someone—presumably Aria's enemy—is using them as weapons to create a diplomatic fissure between us, I think it would be wise to pull them out altogether. However..."

"However," Medora incisively picked up where Tevos trailed off in thought, "if you withdraw your Spectres you will be flying blind and forced to heavily rely on Miss T'Loak's eyes to update you on Omega's status. And I don't see her as someone who reports facts without editing them to her preferences first."

"There are other informants and agents there under Aria's radar," said Tevos. "They're less conspicuous, albeit quite immobile. They've settled into fairly stable lives there to preserve their secrecy, but rarely gather information outside their daily social circles and experiences..."

"Have you considered using agents with no official files that could be traced or compromised?"

"We have protocols. Operatives require profiles to even apply for basic training programs. There is no such thing as complete anonymity, and even if we used individuals who couldn't be linked back to the Citadel, how could they fare well in their missions without proper training? And I will most certainly _not_ be hiring mercenaries to satisfy our call for quality."

Medora pursed her lips every so slightly, on the verge of expressing a clever thought. "An alternative to that specific problem has actually been prepared for you, Councilor."

She tentatively took the matriarch's bait. "What sort of alternative have you devised?"

"It's the primary reason why we're both here," said Medora. "I needed to speak to you in person, and formally contacting you with an appointment would've been far too... indiscreet. Suffice it to say, while Asari High Command are phenomenally good at keeping secrets from the galaxy, they are also skilled at holding them from one another. I could not afford to put this at risk of interception." She spared Tevos's C-Sec guards a mindful glance. "Myself, a few others of Asari High Command, and matriarchs who openly support your stance on this ordeal, convened after we first initiated the votes. We've been incredibly diligent in preserving secrecy, because it has now become our greatest weapon. We deliberated on your persistent inability to gather proper evidence of anything on Omega, and arrived to the conclusion that your Spectres are being watched and confounded. By whom has never been clear, but they obviously realize how large of a threat they pose. And, as you've been forced to experience, these people have cultivated such a powerful aversion to the Council's Spectres that they've decided to use them against you. To seal this structural weakness, we've arranged to offer you a few off-the-record substitutes."

"What did you have in mind?" Tevos asked, completely willing to hear her idea.

"Four of the some of the finest operatives we could safely assemble," said the matriarch. "Ones who have demonstrated supreme loyalty to the principles they are being trusted to defend. There is one from myself, from Matriarch Alaias, and Matriarch Benezia, and Matriarch Persa. They are among the ranks who will be supporting you during these troubling times. You see, we _all_ have our people's best interest at heart, without exception. With a bit of rationalization, we can assert that we aren't precisely _dissenting_ , but going about solving the same problem through... more effective means."

Tevos allowed a smile to form on her lips and remain there for a few seconds. "Sometimes I deeply wonder if we are outright _incapable_ of following lawful precedents set before us without accessing their infinite interpretations."

Her smile was returned, but no comment was made on her observation. "Will you accept our aid?" Medora brought them back to their central topic. "Everything is already prepared. We only require your word, and within the next few days you shall receive a request to schedule a private appointment with them. Under false names of course, which I will provide you."

"I shall meet with them," Tevos decided. "If I deem them suitable for this work I will accept their help and remove my Spectres from danger—but first, as I said, I need to personally evaluate them and the situation before proceeding."

"Completely understandable, Councilor," said Medora. "I also anticipate that you would need to consult the other councilors. I don't perceive a design of this gravity being totally kept from them."

"Of course not. Perhaps I shall approach Councilor Estulius before the party comes to a close. His assistants must have informed him of the trouble by now as well. If I may, I should take my leave now."

"As you will, Councilor. We must move quickly. Every moment lost is another potentially gained by those who wish us ill. I shall await your return so that we may continue discussing our options, and arrive to a decision."

Before Tevos departed, Medora made one final remark.

"Councilor Tevos," she said, drawing Tevos's gaze a final time. "I must say that for years I've always been fascinated and impressed by your people skills. It will always be a mystery to me, how you manage to correspond with Aria T'Loak so efficiently. It has brought you fame among Asari High Command, and I have no doubt that you will enjoy witnessing a rejuvenation of that accolade over the next few weeks."

Tevos gracefully accepted the compliment with a faint smile and a shallow tip of her head before returning down the halls. Her personal guard was swept up by the migration, flocking and reassembling around the asari councilor without a single uttered directive.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

In wake of the accusations directed toward Aria, whom Liselle dearly loved, the maiden had fretfully acknowledged that she would tragically continue doing so even if her mother suffered a vile imbalance of the mind... even something as alarming as sociopathy.

Eventually Wasea brought her needless suffering to an end. "So it was surprising when you came along," she said. "I never thought I would see Aria care about anyone. But I'm not saying this out of sympathy for either of you. I'm saying it because it's the truth." She paused, tapping her fingers onto the desk in deep thought. "Everything's complicated. Nothing's simple. Nothing's clear, or absolutely anything. Nothing's black, nothing's white, just... shades of muddy gray, swirling about and making us all dizzy." She brought a hand up to her forehead while muttering, "I think I'm drunk."

While Wasea tended to her developing headache by rubbing her fingers against her temples, Liselle had taken to watching her as a cloud of analysis engulfed her thoughts. There was so much disdain for Aria in this asari's body—so much that it was akin to an illness. Of mind or heart was not known, but some pernicious rot had gripped her nonetheless. It was coaxed out by drink and put on display for the girl to see in plain view, and what she saw was an individual riddled by a twisted form of envy so putrid that it had poisoned her thoughts and ability to detect her own hypocrisy. For every quality of Aria's that Wasea had expressed hatred for, she harbored herself on a smaller scale. Such pride and arrogance coursed through Wasea—not identical to Aria's, but certainly similar. At once, it became quite evident to Liselle that Wasea had been swept up by jealousy, warping it into pure hatred for someone successfully occupying a space she had failed to fill herself. It was a bit sad in a way, Liselle thought. Where there was addled rage there was also a distinct presence of poetry in her words, quite telling of someone relatively well-read. But said poetry was not melodious. Wasea spoke in ruined poetry. Words that would have held harmony and beauty, but were brutally stripped of it by her spite and left barren and hollow.

"That's why she's here on Omega," Wasea growled. "This is the land without innocents. A place where Aria can burn through everything in her way without experiencing a sense of doubt or guilt. It's perfect for people like her. Why else would anyone come here? It sure as hell isn't for the scenery. It's because Omega is a bastion of crime and misery, and people flock here in large enough numbers to counteract the death rate, serving their opportunistic and violent lifestyles without penalty. Or so they initially believe." She removed her hands from her head. "Aria's got a conscience somewhere buried deep beneath all those layers of cunning mob boss brutality, and she's afraid of it. It's probably the only thing she fears—that there can arrive moments in which surges of sympathy and empathy can cloud her judgment and cause her to act counter-productively. Omega's her safe haven. Her home. No one can exploit that weakness here. _Everyone's_ hands have blood on them here, and for that reason Aria will never excuse you if you cross her. And look at you," Wasea sneered at the reticent Liselle. "Years older than Aria was when she first dabbled in crime and you haven't even touched raw drugs or pulled a gun's trigger with the muzzle against someone's fucking skull. She really stunted you, you know. Locked you up in a nice, safe, dark box, but now she expects you to be capable and street-smart when you've only just been thrown out of the nest and over a sheer cliff." She irritably finished off her drink.

For the initial first second, Liselle felt a surge of agreement. She had never tried fooling herself, or anyone else, into thinking that she was formidable and highly skilled. Liselle knew that being shut into a controlled and sterile environment for so long had left a gaping hole in her skill set. She wondered if Aria would've done things differently, had she known what troubles Liselle would eventually face once making her debut into the perilous outside world.

"She was erring on the side of caution," Liselle quietly muttered her thoughts aloud, securing her fingertips around the rim of her glass on the desk before her and rocking it around at tiny angles, watching the liquid swim to and fro within its boundaries. "I mean... she might have just been thinking of herself, and less of me. By keeping me safe, she could avoid worrying about me. Avoid all the dangers that would come with letting me freely roam around Omega, getting into trouble and maybe even letting slip who I was. She spared herself from the pain. She made sure there was nothing out there easily used against her. That's what I've usually thought over the years, but now I think I'm starting to see another side. Where, maybe she wasn't sure what to do. She always seems like she knows exactly what she's doing, but she makes mistakes too sometimes. Maybe she really did want to keep me safe for my sake, and not her own. It might not have been just one option or the other."

Wasea snorted. "Looks like she's successfully put you under the impression that keeping you in a cage was truly out of selfless benevolence. And now you forgive her because she's been kind enough to set you free at last? All is well now, huh?"

"I forgive her because there wasn't another way," Liselle adamantly insisted, looking hard at Wasea.

"There _was_ another way. There were _many_ other ways, only not taken because Aria's a selfish _bitch_. Kid, if your mother loved you more than she loved herself, she would've sent you to half-decent family for a normal life. You would've had parents and friends and an actual selection of career paths. You would've had some control over your own fate. So why'd she keep you around?"

The girl's face visibly paled a shade.

While the brief moment of silence extended, Wasea leaned in over the desk, propping herself up on a pair of folded arms. "You're just like the rest of us, Liselle," she said. "We are all her prisoners in some manner. She might care about you, but there's no room on Omega for another source of power. Omega is _her_ world and no other's. Not even her daughter's. It's never been about you, and it never _will_ be about you. You're just a means to an end. Another cog in a machine."

"What do _you_ know about that?" Liselle suddenly snapped, gripping the arm of her chair in a tense, clawed hold. "What would _you_ know about anything that goes on between us? Nothing, nothing at all! You might've known some things about her that I didn't, but it takes _some_ _amount_ of egotism to make these assumptions about what she thinks and plans! The shit you're throwing at me is just... just conspiracy theories!"

As Liselle seethed with indignation, Wasea had calmly cocked her head to one side, examining the maiden with what appeared to be confident gaiety. "So, Liselle," she began after taking a deep, relaxed breath that wavered with hidden tremors of vigor, "I'm flat-out wrong when I assume that's there's a bigger reason why your mother doesn't allow you access to certain information which you, by all means, would normally have every right to know? I'm wrong when I say that this is deliberately done because Aria has certain plans that she can't have you intervening in or altering? Why else would she keep so many secrets from you?"

Liselle's rage dissolved extraordinarily fast, dwindling down into harmless twitches of surprise and wide-eyed muteness.

"Why does she do this?" Wasea sardonically pondered aloud. "Why doesn't she trust you enough with tiny tidbits about her life, and even your own? Why does everyone around you so swiftly seal their lips whenever you inquire about something Aria has refused to comment on? Do you think that maybe there's something about this information that's making everyone around you guard it so piously? Something kept away from you for fear of your reaction?" She reclined in her seat, folding her hands together and grew thoughtful. "Does she tell you about how your surrogate mother Iaera Kasantis was an active spy before she started taking care of you?"

The girl truthful shook her head once—a tiny yet defiant movement.

"Did she ever tell you that your biotic teacher, Zuria Alaris, quit her previous job because she didn't have the stomach to gruesomely torture intelligence out of Aria's prisoners?"

"I already know what has to happen sometimes," Liselle spoke up, keeping the slight waver in her voice under control. She had ceased looking at Wasea in the eyes. Instead, they were trained on the ugly bullet holes speckling the desk. Although Aria rarely talked about her more sensitive operations, Liselle had a very vivid idea about what they usually entailed. Certain practices essential for the success and longevity of Aria's syndicate had _never_ sat well with her, but Liselle, knowing the nature of Omegan power distribution and attainment, was in no position to thoroughly criticize it. There were no rules to govern warfare in the Terminus Systems. What Aria used against her enemies would be used against her as well if the opportunity arose, and so no one dared sacrifice a viable method of obtaining information for the sake of something as pragmatically worthless as _morality_. "Zuria just has too much empathy to handle the job," she guessed.

"Did Aria ever tell you how many people once knew who you were, and how many of them are dead now?" Wasea pressed on.

"No," Liselle quietly replied.

"That's right. She's denied her daughter access to everything because she secretly fears what you'd do if you knew. She won't even tell her own daughter why she exists in the first place. Why she kept her. Who her father was."

Liselle finally met the other asari's gaze again. "Is that something you know?"

A steady sigh passed through Wasea's lips. "If I _did_ know, it's another thing I'd never be able to tell you without expecting a bullet between the eyes."

She nodded in understanding. The answer was, after all, no different than the ones she was inured to over the years of her life. Whether the claim of ignorance was a lie or the truth did not matter; no bribes, nor pleads, nor further appeals ever coaxed answers out. Aria had everyone trained fantastically well. With these grim thoughts, Liselle was violently overcome by a sense of futility. It distracted her, turning her attention pitifully downward to the desk again, peering at its numerous scars and holes. She did not expect to brood as intensely as she did in that moment. The dark emotions crept up through her conscious like a nightmare, seizing her, and bringing wetness to her eyes.

"I've asked her on a few occasions," Liselle absently confided in the stranger at the other side of the desk, her voice involuntarily quivering. "She never wants to talk about it. I know she's not covering up the fact that I'm a _mistake_ , because it's too obvious. I already knew. So I figured there must have been some other reason. Like... maybe something horrible happened to them. My father." She hesitated, swallowing a developing lump in her throat. "Maybe they're dead now. That's probably the case. I mean, it's been over fifty years, and most other species don't live very long. And if my mother was with another asari, I doubt she would've been the mother—"

"That's a potentially fallacious assumption," Wasea cut into her reasoning, leveling an unsympathetic index finger at the girl to secure her attention. "First of all, what makes you think that?"

"Well, she'd be... voluntarily burdening herself," said Liselle, lifting a hand to wipe away her nascent tears with the back of her wrist. "And I'm not voluntary."

"So the conclusion you're trying to draw from your involuntary existence is that your father could not have been an asari? Kid, if you ever want to figure out something like this, you need to work on your deduction skills."

Liselle gave her a highly perplexed expression.

"Motherhood is _not_ a burden. It's an indicator of status and dominance. You see, part of the reason why the majority of asari have stopped reproducing with our own race is because not only are those offspring genetically unremarkable and regressive, but asari fathers also fail to benefit. Asari fathers could've been mothers themselves, had they reproduced outside our race. They suffer because in our culture, daughters inherit their mothers' names and wealth. In a sense, the father of an asari suffers a case of... micro-extinction. It is _especially_ the case when the father is of another race."

"So they'd rather see the lineage of other species end than ours?" Liselle distastefully inferred.

A single and crooked nod was given. "Yeah. 'Make the galaxy Thessian'. That rhetoric doesn't get much attention. But if you properly understand, you'll realize that Aria would not have allowed another to steal her heir, essentially. Accident or not, asari or not—she would be the one to have you. To ultimately use you to her advantage, like I've been saying. You can't deny it. It all adds up."

While Liselle inwardly winced and felt a pang of hostility at the notion of being some produced _commodity_ , she had no choice but to acknowledge the worth of the rest of her statement. It made sense to her. It was unlike Aria to be generous enough to donate genetic inspiration to a child who wouldn't even carry her name, who would instead be heavily influenced by the motherly raising and sculpting of someone else. Yes, it was very unlike Aria to entrust anyone with mothering her own offspring. Her _only_ offspring. At least, the only offspring Liselle knew of.

And then, a peculiar question came to mind. Wasea, like so many others, existed with Aria's metaphorical hand around her throat at all times, yet still she spoke garishly seditious things to the _daughter_ of the Queen. But why? Why give Liselle such an unselfish handout at such great risk? She asked of Wasea, "Why are you telling me all these things?"

Wasea was silent, the steel in her features draining away and leaving her face devoid of expression. After much thought inhibited by her minor intoxication, she gave her answer, "It's not easy, living in constant subjugation to Aria. It's not always tolerable. We know we can't defy her and live for long on Omega. So we arm ourselves with whatever we can, in our defense. Just to stand against the tide."

She ceased speaking. Her unfeeling gray eyes were focused intently upon Liselle, and her mind was completely occupied with her true answer, the one she had neglected to give the maiden: in a realm where Aria's will was everything, a perpetual struggle was waged against her by those still clinging to the independence being pried from their curled fingers. The struggle was almost impossible to win. There were no effective munitions against Aria. No footholds, no major points of leverage. Thus, Liselle was an incredible gift. She was someone so close to Aria's heart, young and malleable and confused.

Winning the allegiance of this girl was absolutely imperative.

She was fixated upon her. She imagined the din that would erupt from the depths of Omega if Liselle's identity ever suffered the tragedy of fame. She envisioned scores of desperate thugs crawling out of the darkest corners of the station like insects all pursuing the same meal. They would literally _go to war_ over custody of Liselle. They would snatch her up and put her in a proverbial glass case for Aria to see. How would she would respond if such an event ever came to pass? Would she surrender? Would she tear the heavens down rather than see her daughter held hostage like a gilded prize?

Wasea comfortably reclined in her chair, still entranced by the visions. "From the moment when I was first dragged into Aria's sphere of influence, I've struggled against her," she said. "She uses the Eclipse like cannon fodder whenever she can get away with it. Her credits and threats creep into the pockets of our captains, feeding their desires and rearranging their priorities. Jona Sederis and the division captains won't admit it, but Aria's steadily driving our Omega outfits into the fucking ground. Slitting our arteries as we go down and stealing all the resources that spill from our corpses. She pulls us kicking and screaming into her every scheme and in the end she always gets her way at our expense. And not even I've been completely immune to it. She has a way of opening you up, getting into your head and heart and finding your deepest desires. Learning how to fix you up in a way that'll have you crawling back to her and kissing her boots for more. I was conned into plenty of odd jobs and personal favors. It didn't occur to me that I was being used like another simple-minded grunt until it was too late. Until I, like many others in my organization, became embarrassingly trapped by my own naivety. The last thing I ever did for Aria was join that tiny platoon of loyal thralls who helped bring you into this pitiful world. After that was over, I swore to myself that I would never allow her to manipulate me again. Yet here's her daughter fifty years later; an ambassador to me whose innocence and inexperience thickly belie the intentions of her mother. You really _aren't_ different than the rest of us. Aria might love you, but as I said before... she loves herself more."

Liselle did not reply as Wasea observed her with wicked eyes.

"Do you think you deserve to know what Aria won't tell you?" Wasea finally asked her.

Although the question shocked her somewhat, Liselle processed it and managed to voice the proud, honest response building up within her, "I do."

Wasea appeared pleased. "If I were willing to... help you along the way in that endeavor—for a price, of course—would you consider it?"

Liselle furrowed her brow, again bemused by the strange question. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"What if I told you that I knew the name of someone who knows a few more of Aria's little secrets, including who your father was? Is it worth it to you?"

She found her suspicions to be absolutely correct. At once, the maiden was taken by her own inner musings; a great landscape of wonder, populated by shadows of her unknown origin, of her father—an invisible, absent figure, and a source of unfathomable mystery. Of course Liselle was outrageously curious. Of course she desired to know. But it was blatantly against Aria's will. Thus, although the knowledge by itself was certainly tempting, she could not picture herself enraging her mother over such a nonessential detail. Yet... there was something more to the secret. There was a quality embedded in its forbidden nature, compelling her forward. The feeling was all emotion and fantasy, Liselle rationally acknowledged, but even so, it could not be totally denied.

She was carrying classified history in her genes. A confidential series of events that had been seized right out of time and sealed away in her mother's mind, and locked up in her daughter's very cells. Was it not that unreasonable to inquire about what composed her body? What person had been partially responsible for her existence, and whose conceptions of flesh and neurons covered her bones? With an upward, bold tilt of her chin, Liselle announced, "That depends on your price."

A smirk arose at the girl's growing audacity and willingness to play the game proposed. "Have you ever been to Aria's penthouse, in Afterlife?" Wasea asked her.

"I've never been," Liselle admitted, "But..."

"But?" echoed Wasea.

She hesitated. "But... I have access. Only for emergencies, though. She told me that if there ever came a day when I didn't feel safe, or if I needed to flee to somewhere that was, I could go there to hide."

The smirk remained, reflecting Wasea's lasting amusement as she observed Liselle with her frightening gaze, piecing together her foul plan. When she had assembled one, Wasea reached down and yanked open one of the desk's metal drawers, withdrew some nice letter-writing paper, its complimenting pen, and began to scrawl upon it. Liselle craned her neck to see, but Wasea concealed her note well. Upon finishing, Wasea swiftly folded the paper, took a moment to subtly wave it in Liselle's face, dropped in back into the open drawer, then slammed it shut. "I've written down the name and address of this individual," she told Liselle. "It's all there. All you need to do it set out and have a little chat and lunch date with them. But first, you have to persuade me into handing the paper over. You see, Liselle, I want something of Aria's. Think of it as a trophy. A harmless and simple souvenir commemorating this moment in time, let's say. In Aria's penthouse you'll find some cabinets filled with all sorts of lovely libations and sterling decanters fit for a goddess. I want you to bring me back one of them. I want the Caeran 2042 vintage wine."

Liselle snorted at the absurdity. "You want me to steal from my mother? Are you insane?"

"No, just a little greedy."

"You really think I'd do something like this?" Liselle asked with incredulity.

"Well I'm about to find that out, aren't I?"

She paused, astounded at Wasea's confidence, and her strange delusion wherein Liselle actually took her up on her offer. "Even if I _was_ willing," she said, "do you really think that all the guards in Afterlife are just going to let me stroll right in and rob the most powerful person on Omega?"

"Don't get caught."

"And what if I do? They'll detain me and bring me to my mother."

"Well what the fuck is Aria going to do about it?" Wasea suddenly raised her voice in impatience. "Give you a time-out? Tell you to go stand in a corner for an hour? She won't do shit to you, and you know it."

"Yeah, or she could kick me off my team," Liselle remorsefully added. "I've already crossed her once and I'm not too keen on testing her patience again."

A curt nod was given by Wasea, her eyes flitting about in aggravation. When she spoke, she spoke quickly. "Fine. Tell you what: when you realize that Aria's never going to tell you things, when you realize that I'm probably offering you the only chance you're ever going to get to find out something about you and your parentage... You go get me that wine, bring it here, and I'll hold up my end of the bargain. It's wide open, Liselle. I'm not going anywhere. I'm stuck in this quagmire of blood and waste and I've got plenty of time to burn. Got some bad news, though." She delivered a sharp kick to the metal drawer at her side with the toe of her boot, producing a rough and rattling bang. Liselle flinched. "My currently-anonymous pal lives over in the Tuhi District, and last I heard, the death toll there was rising faster than a volus usurer's interest rates. Depending on whose side this person's fighting on, they may or may not be alive today, or tonight, or tomorrow..."

Liselle could formulate no reply. She sat there with the weight of urgency and danger of a sudden dilemma mercilessly thrown upon her shoulders, and she could not speak. She did not want to speak. She did not want to decide at all.

"Clock's ticking, kid. I'd make my final decision quickly if I were you."

The last comment sent Liselle rising from her chair. She stared at Wasea—the menacing beast of this Eclipse-declared liar—staring back at her with a vaguely feral expression. It was a blend of hostility and fear, Liselle believed. And if it was _not_ fear, then it was desirous ambition, tainted by the distinct and powerful refusal to see her wishes denied. It was at that very moment when Liselle truly was convinced that Wasea was not completely right in the head. Something foul had lain root inside her skull, something burning and desperate, and it was not apt to leave any time soon.

"It'll be our little secret," Wasea quietly urged her, tilting her head a few degrees. The orange halo of light at her back washed over the frame of her face and upper body, shifting in an outer membrane of fire.

Liselle began striding backward, escaping into the shadows of the office. When the lip of the darkness closed over the last section of her body, Wasea spoke once more, shedding her previously amiable tone for a hostile one.

"She'll never tell you anything!" she barked as she lost Liselle. "You're just another one of her pawns! We know things about your mother that would make you want to _die!"_

Liselle retreated, searching for the door's lock with a blindly groping hand extended behind her, and departed. While in the elevator, she noticed that she was shaking.

She came under the sense that Wasea really didn't covet the notion of owning the wine as much as she had deliberately implied. The bottle alone wasn't the prize. It would represent something far grander, if it was delivered to her intact—for it would be a sign of Liselle's willingness to do business with those bearing dark agendas.

It would be a symbol of her tentative, growing allegiance to resisting entities, beautifully spotted by tiny betrayals of her mother.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Councilor Tevos and Matriarch Medora adjourned their exclusive conversation, intending to resume it to refine the countless facets of their plans once Tevos had made some important calls. When she returned to her primary group to courteously inform them of her need for further absence, Eleni accosted her with urgent news, to which Tevos ruefully responded by telling the girl that she was well aware, and already taking measures to defuse the problem before it became catastrophic. She smoothly acquired Farala's audience after that, quietly asking her if there was a communication console she could use to make some vital calls. Farala spent a moment analyzing the request, figuring the councilor would need the most secure lines available, and assured her cousin that adequate facilities did in fact exist on the premises. She too excused herself from their company before leading Tevos and her guards back through the lavish halls until arriving at a side room segregated from the livelier regions of the estate. Without prying into her business, Farala granted Tevos access and departed for her privacy.

Tevos entered the room alone, and found it to be even more hospitable than the comm rooms in the Embassies and Citadel Tower—while they were often themed in metallic grays and pale shades of stately but dull beige, the N'Yiria scions had dressed theirs up with comfortable furniture, plants, and floor rugs. Perhaps, Tevos thought, these items were in place to accommodate high frequency and length of long-distance calls by providing a relaxing environment.

Aria would be the first individual Tevos contacted with the news. This choice was the result of some careful logical reasoning, based on the fact that any plans she devised with the other councilors would _have_ to revolve around whatever she decided with Aria, as they were acting as the secret spearhead of the entire affair, plus the troublesome reality that Aria was far more resistant to conforming to plans not formulated herself. And quite latent in the councilor's mind lied a third reason: she profoundly wanted to confront Aria with innumerable questions and scoldings for acting so recklessly and independently.

Throughout the obligatory waiting period following her initial placement of the call, Tevos vaguely realized that the prospect of speaking to Aria no longer made her anxious. It was a peculiar change indeed, and she suspected it had to do with an aspect of closure brought about after their last encounter.

 _Closure, or a sense of the inevitable?_ Tevos bleakly thought. _I am possibly comforted by having a destination in my mind, however alarming it may be, instead of wandering aimlessly in search of a steady path to walk. At least now, I have direction. I have my bearings, and... so does Aria, it seems._

A body of light eventually materialized from the console, arranging itself into a familiar shape in unfamiliar attire. The perturbed form of Aria T'Loak stood with her arms folded, emerging from finely-tailored sleeves stitched with sinuous, abstract designs. A gorgeous sheen of silk was draped around her shoulders, imbued in every shade of the material including the dark cuffs of the sleeves, the borders of the parted front, and the sash tied about her waist to keep the ensemble closed.

While Tevos eyed her for a moment, inferring that the robe was what Aria slept in, Aria herself was busy looking over the councilor's exquisite wardrobe choice for the evening.

 _"Well,"_ Aria bitterly said, showing some of her disdain from being woken, combined with the flippant nature of her quip, _"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Councilor."_

Tevos would have smiled if her call had been a casual one. Instead, she reverted straight to business and said to her, "Believe me Aria, you've interrupted my night just as much as I've interrupted yours."

Aria faintly pursed her lips with mocking intrigue. _"Interesting... This isn't the normal address you're transmitting from. You're calling from Thessia."  
_

"Such scrutiny, I see," Tevos replied to Aria's chagrin and a fake, miniature grimace of pain resulting from the comment. As usual, Tevos felt that it contained more underlying disdain than it did friendliness. "I'm at a family reunion, tearing myself away from relatives unseen in _centuries_ just to speak with you."

The mob boss tilted her chin upward a few degrees in amusement. _"All right, Councilor. You've got my attention. Let's make this quick."_

"Very well," Tevos agreed. "First of all, our 'friends' are not responsible for the attacks."

Aria's eyes lit up with interest.

"And despite your recent best efforts to _make_ them your enemy, they still haven't acted violently against you. Not yet. But they may in the future, one matriarch from their ranks tells me, because seeing their agents limping home, battered and bruised, does not in any way heal their perception of you." Tevos paused to watch Aria's folded arms beginning to tighten ever so slightly. "Why in the universe didn't you tell me when you found them? Do you not trust me, even after everything we've worked on thus far?"

 _"I trust you, sure,"_ Aria affirmed. " _I_ trust _that you'd try to stop me."_

"You would be correct in assuming so, yes," Tevos curtly informed her.

_"All the more reason to stay silent. Listen, Councilor, your colluding friends have already crossed the line. I had every right to remove their spies from my syndicate, and every right to break their fingers until they told me what their orders were."_

"Yes, and in doing so their masters draw even _closer_ to initiating orders to carry out your deposition."

Aria's face became hauntingly lax as she responded to the comment with aversion, _"You speak as if it's actually happening."_

Tevos blinked once, mutely asserting that she had made no error in her selection of words, which had been specifically designed to be parsed by the ever-observant Aria.

The crime lord's jaw stiffened. _"If they fire a single shot at any of my forces I'll give them a fucking war."_

"Which is _precisely_ what I fear the most," Tevos confessed, her tone bleeding concern. "Not only have you agitated our friends over the last three days, but you have also handed your enemy a potent weapon. My Spectre, Aria. You did not find her in time."

_"Such scrutiny, I see."_

Tevos stared at her, witnessing the pixels of light rearrange themselves to reflect the smallest adjustments of facial expression. The warlord stared back, eyes luminous with mental activity. The sight immediately struck Tevos with the sense that Aria knew a lot more about the situation than she let on, but the councilor could not decide whether to be pleased by that or not. Even with the remnants of sleep brooding in Aria's face, afflicting her usually-stolid features with an ethereal docile quality—noticed in eyelids held at a nearly indiscernible distance lower than usual, in fuller lips due to their respite from being forced into thinned frowns, and in the luxurious robe clinging to the curves of her previously dormant body—Aria still obviously housed the ruthless machinations of a conqueror.

Myriad cognitions were ceaselessly turning in her head; compelling designs of war woven with flawless intricacy, analyses of promptly-obtained avalanches of information, and the anticipation of events supposedly restricted to inaccessible spheres, patiently abiding in the hostile future. It would have been a highly impressive sight if Tevos had the leisure to dwell on her fancies, but her and Aria's mind were preoccupied with far more important issues.

In line with their new implicit tradition, personal relations were postponed for a time when turmoil was not so immediate, times when their successful deliberation peeled the looming shadows back so that the sight of one another was no longer so obscured by cold politics and doubt. For there was a curious hearth always emanating from Aria, Tevos had found. A simultaneous rival and ally, a prophesized foe yet a creature whose lips were inexplicably drawn to and touched her own, searing her nerves there on every single instance of contact and leaving invisible scars behind.

 _"What do you suppose we do about all this?"_ Aria inquired, pulling Tevos from her thoughts _. "Some information may need to be exchanged, after all."_

Her tone revealed to Tevos that she knew exactly what her answer would be.


	14. Autopsy of Principles

**THE TAYSERI GAZETTE — "Spectre Brutally Murdered on Omega; The Council Responds"**

Yesterday at 18:57 GST, an anonymously-submitted forum post originating on the extranet site "Worthy Calculus" [EXTRANET LINK] went viral from alarming contents. Found in this forum post was a set of explicit photographic documentation of the gruesome manner in which Spectre Neora Sarthis met her demise somewhere near Omega's Gozu District, followed by uploaded files extracted from the Spectre's hardsuit detailing what Council-issued guidance brought her all the way to Omega in the first place.

According to the files, Neora Sarthis had been deployed to Omega as a supplement for de facto ruler Aria T'Loak's legions of special operatives currently locked in a struggle with an evasive adversary. The authors of the post extrapolated from the report a high likelihood that Spectre Neora Sarthis was but the first link in a long chain of foreign aid the Council plans to send Aria T'Loak to protect Citadel interests and agreements. Further speculation in the post expresses fears of eventual Council-mandated occupation.

Public reaction was immediate. A flood of complaints and concerns surged through the extranet over the next twenty hours, prompting the Council to announce a statement/press release that was delivered by Councilor Tevos earlier this morning. The asari councilor's response to the indecent follows:

6:20 GST 20.2.2081; COUNCILOR TEVOS N'VANI ADDRESSING THE COUNCIL CHAMBER:

"A tragic event found the notice of our many peoples yesterday, and this revelation was in no way planned by the Citadel Council, nor any entities affiliated with the Council, to be brought to attention with such insensitivity and by such an invidious anonymous group. With this said, and with certain facts lain out for all to see, the Council owes the people it serves an explanation—a right we will not deny the inquiring populace who so deeply care about the conduct of their collective government as well as its relationship with other domains across the galaxy.

The death of Spectre Neora Sarthis was horrendous. But I will not allow her final project nor her acceptance of it to be tainted by a nameless aggregate of Omegan conspiracy theorists who apparently seek to damage us all through manipulated evidence and forged electronic documents. And so today I intend to release previously-classified records detailing the true nature of Neora Sarthis's mission, to both mend her memory and alleviate public concerns about a possible Citadel-authorized military presence on the station in question.

Spectre Neora Sarthis was performing reconnaissance on the Council's behalf, gathering intelligence about activities on Omega to discern whether its powers intended to inflict harm upon the Citadel and/or any of the races it comprises. Given this fact, it should be known that Neora was in no way used to propagate war on Omega, but to protect her home from the _possibility_ of war itself. The Council arranged this mission with simple goals in mind: to maintain proper awareness of affairs transpiring throughout the galaxy so that our homes need not fear the abysmal unknown, and so that our people will always have adequate forewarning, and time for necessary preparations, should any ill plans be uncovered. To neglect attaining preemptive knowledge would be an extreme dereliction of the Council's duties and a betrayal to the very people we swore to serve to the best of our capabilities.

With Spectre Neora's help the Council has acquired various packages of intelligence exonerating Aria T'Loak's administration from the suspicion of illicit drug trafficking with the Citadel and its surrounding territories. As a result, any semblance of confrontation with Omega has been completely avoided, thus sparing our people from possible conflicts with Omegan fleets at our borders. But as we've seen, Neora's brave service ended in the most heartbreaking manner conceivable. While still stationed on Omega, an entity unaffiliated with Aria T'Loak's organization found the presence of a Spectre unacceptable and committed atrocities against her life. In the aftermath of her death, whom we suspect to be the same entity responsible for her murder proceeded to twist the reality of her mission in such a way that aspired to defame the Council for imaginary operations to which its people did not consent. I openly denounce this forum post as intentionally misleading and fallacious, as there has never been, nor ever will be, any attempt by the Council to make unprovoked incursions into the Terminus Systems.

My heart goes out to the family and friends of the fallen Spectre Neora Sarthis, and I give them my deepest condolences. Like all other heroes of the Citadel who have perished in the line of duty, let us indelibly carve her name into the pillars that support our grand alliance of nations and honor her sacrifice forever."

[END OF TRANSCRIPT]

To access a recorded vid of the statement, visit the Council's archive of public addresses: [EXTRANET LINK]

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

A quick glance into the councilor's study yielded no sight of her sought-after guest. She turned, eliminating the room from her list of suspect locations to face the second most likely scenario: a migration to the most personal spaces of her dwelling, undoubtedly made by Aria to satiate her everlasting hunger for comprehensive, detailed knowledge about the rare few who managed to cross over into her spheres of close contact.

Tevos's revised hypothesis was correct. She discovered her guest by the single window of her bedroom, occupying her most comfortable armchair with crossed legs and a pair of hands holding up unidentified reading material to the thin slits of blue light filtering through the blinds. She was examining the print with a faintly-creased brow, apparently perplexed with whatever the publication was asserting. A small stack of extra books selected from Tevos's shelves were laid in queue on the arm of the chair, awaiting their captor's attention.

The councilor remained stationary in the doorway. She observed Aria, allowing her eyes to drift along the bars of illumination curving over her features and body. One bent across the bridge of her nose and dipped onto the surface of her cheeks, replicating an image that took Aria's body into its nucleus with enough frequency to make Tevos recall the eldest memories she had of Aria. The further the tiers of light descended Aria's body the dimmer they grew—much like the sharpness of those memories. The stratified tower gradually vanished into the canvas of black material of the C-Sec undersuit.

Patiently Tevos waited for Aria to acknowledge her, but after a significant number of seconds it became obvious that Aria had no intention of donating the first word to the vacant air between them.

"I had to answer a call from Matriarch Medora," Tevos explained her temporary absence as Aria flipped a page and neglected to establish eye contact. "I'm sure you remember her. This time, you'll be pleased to know that she intends to help you."

Aria shut the book with a single precipitous hand, laid it on the stack to her right, then finally brought her eyes to meet the councilor's. "We both know my health isn't her primary concern," she quietly and coldly said, dismissing Tevos's skewed presentation of reality.

"True," Tevos ruefully conceded. "However, I don't believe her personal feelings or opinions about you take anything away from the fact that she will be our ally until we resolve all this... trouble. While she may not care much for _you personally_ , she does care whether or not the Council races are spared from conflict with possible future leaders of Omega. Our history with the Terminus Systems is not exactly pristine as you recall. But you, Aria T'Loak, are an opportunity for some peace and she wants to take advantage of it. Thus, she will provide us with means that would, in actuality, resemble concern for your health. Suffice it to say, while her motivations probably aren't aligned with true sympathy, her actions have and will produce the very same effect."

A blink, a session of finger-tapping on the chair's arm, and a slight narrowing of eyes revealed Aria's lasting suspicions. "I'm still not convinced that I can trust anyone from Asari High Command. They had their agents ensconced on Omega, poised to attack me on a _whim._ Are you sure this isn't a reflex from me exposing their agents? Are you sure they aren't trying to make us complacent again by feigning friendliness while they regroup?"

"Medora has already sent me classified records of the deployment of those particular agents as well as updates on High Command's meetings," Tevos replied while strolling into the bedroom, bringing a hand to the front of her night robe and holding it securely shut over her first layer of sleepwear. She approached Aria's side, gathering the tiny hoard of books into her arms when she reached her and made to return them to their rightful places. "She's sent me transcripts, audio recordings— _everything_ I needed to ascertain High Command's current position. While they still have the potential to mutate into a legitimate threat in the future, the sheer immediacy has been reduced." She began slipping the books back into the shelves, reconstructing their flawless categorical and alphabetical arrangement. When she finished, Tevos turned back to accusatorially address Aria. "And unlike you, Medora is _very_ transparent with me."

Aria frowned and made no effort to conceal it. "What you want from me isn't just transparency. You expect me to seek your _permission_ to act, and that is beyond what I'm willing to give you."

"Permission, or consensus?" Tevos inquired, folding her arms from where she stood in the shadows beside her bookshelf. "Really Aria, I can't believe your obstinacy sometimes. I'm not asking you to relinquish your autonomy. I only request that you inform me about major actions so I can provide pertinent intelligence. To give us the _broadest_ perspective we can assemble, accounting for every variable we can discern before acting accordingly. To not be so reckless. Is that really too much to ask of you?"

Their shared gaze was broken by Aria turning toward the window, peering through the narrow slits to behold the Presidium's night. "It is not," she eventually admitted, to Tevos's surprise. "But what _is_ too much to ask of me is allowing you to micromanage what I do with this 'broader perspective'."

Tevos shook her head. "You are so very self-destructive."

Aria regarded her once more, raising a piqued brow.

"To heavily pride oneself on independence," the councilor expanded on her musing. She took a few steps in the opposite direction of Aria and the window, idly removing herself from her proximity. "And to shame interdependence, as if it indicates weakness. But individualistic ideology is the seed of suffering. You see, the point of a governed society—or any syndicate, so that you can relate—is that all members of the contingent are, colloquially, 'in this together'. If we segregate ourselves into little pockets where we are the centers of our respective universes, we only succeed in estranging ourselves from others who might have greatly helped us." She kept her arms folded and held her shoulders taut with conviction. "There is absolutely _nothing_ wrong with cooperating or depending on others, so long as the interdependence is fairly mutual. If it _is_ mutual, that gives rise to a vital principle that keeps the contingent functioning: a balance of the individual's desires and rights against those of the whole. I wish you would see this similarly, but you're still very reluctant to let go of those backwards, myopic, 'center of the universe' visions comparable to the concept of geocentric star systems."

To Tevos's chagrin, the results of her spontaneous lecture had slowly invited a peculiar expression to manifest in Aria's features: a ghost of placid amusement, disguised by the flat and indeterminate curve of her lips, yet ultimately betrayed by the brightness of her eyes.

It was, by all accounts, offensive to Tevos.

"What?" she curtly asked of Aria, sounding a tad more impatient than she would've dared to if her conversational partner had been anyone else. She harbored few reservations. She was now comfortable with her own disapproval. It was no longer thoroughly censored by diplomatic vernacular—it burned freely, healthily, and truthfully for Aria to witness.

Aria's reply, however, did little to douse the councilor's disdain. "You're such a politician," she said, exhaling sharply in humor and tilting her head away in an effort to shake off a materializing derisive grin.

Tevos automatically stiffened with indignity, holding her shoulders even tighter than before. "You seem extraordinarily proud for someone who's just been insulted."

Blue eyes shone with their usual wayward, haughty confidence. Aria appeared as if she might have laughed, but did not. Instead, she kept her composure and responded to Tevos while gesturing at her with an index finger, "It's absurd that you're writing speeches to proselytize me. There's no true insult here, just an appeal to virtue, which might be legal tender for _you_ but remains an inviable currency for the people of Omega. You should respect my culture and its customs." The digit she had leveled at the frowning councilor retreated into the insouciant poise of a bent-back wrist. The last statement was, of course, a parody of a claim traditionally made by those who actually deeply identified with specific cultures, but its effectiveness in getting Aria's point across was in no way stifled by the comment's jocund nature.

Tevos did not share in her amusement. "If I can't have your transparency, you will not have mine," she resolved. "And so if we cannot make that trade, it becomes absolutely imperative for us to jointly make our large decisions. Without _some_ tangible teamwork we might as well not meet at all. Just observe the results of our last meeting. I honestly wonder if the current situation would've been better if we had sat quietly and did absolutely nothing the entire time."

"Oh, I don't know if it was a _complete_ waste," said Aria. "We certainly got along well."

Tevos nearly flinched at the audacity, suddenly feeling a powerful urge to accuse Aria of deliberately vexing her, but the opportunity to express her criticism was stolen away by the tone announcing the arrival of yet another urgent call. After identifying the caller as her secretary, Tevos began to retreat back through the doorway, but not without first telling Aria, "I will return in a few minutes, and then we will deliberate on _productive_ topics. Please prepare whatever data you've brought with you."

Aria's response was a wordless, challenging upward tilt of her head, denoting a modicum of compliance but also retaining all of the natural supreme authority she constantly radiated. And Tevos saw something else; the smallest forward purse of lips—hardly noticeable in the minimal light—but communicating something that made the blood instantly rush to Tevos's cheeks. From where she stood in the doorway, Tevos carefully pointed an index finger at Aria and emphatically reminded her smug guest, "I am still furious with you."

She tore herself away from the room to avoid seeing or hearing any rebuttal Aria might have devised, and answered the call while striding down the hallway. Tevos believed she had endured quite enough _repartee_ for one night, but was only further enervated when she recognized that there was likely far more in store for her by their session's end.

It was so very peculiar and unsettling to have Aria in her home again, especially in the context of what had—or _was_ —occurring between them. Tevos tried not to occupy herself with it, but as usual, a mental recursive loop brought it right back to the center-stage of her conscience.

Aria was an innately compelling specimen. There was just _something_ about Aria that kept the councilor favorably disposed to her. There was _something_ embedded in all the petty quarreling and teasing that Tevos genuinely liked. It was appealing to her for some inconceivable reason, and while it didn't make an inkling of sense to the rational half of her mind, its other more imaginative and poetic counterpart was convinced that the phenomenon was wholly natural.

Distractions were becoming useless. Excuses were becoming useless. _You voluntarily kissed her,_ she would remind herself. _You initiated it, you allowed it, you desired it._ _You have revealed to yourself, and to Aria, precisely what your inclinations are._ _But, do you intend to follow up on them?_

_And why would I do that?_ She would halt her own self-addressed stream of thought. _Why her, of all the incredible people in the galaxy? Why have I, someone so disinterested in exotic and dangerous affairs, begun to lust after exactly that?_

Although it was destined for failure, yet another distraction presently commanded Tevos's attention. She entered a conversation with Eleni wherein she received news on how the councilor's statement was received by the public. For now, it had sufficiently barred the gates of torrential outcry from bursting forth, and bought the Council some time to reorganize itself, prepare more statements, and work to revise small bits of outdated foreign policy. Among the issues _not_ passed on to Eleni existed the information that Tevos was now tailoring the majority of her decisions to the plan she and Medora had settled on, which was, in turn and rather comically, tailored to fit the plans made by her and _Aria_.

_What a winding and tangled chain of deception I've forged,_ she grimly thought to herself. _I keep a major secret from all who consort with me. That I am working so closely to Aria, from Medora; that and what exactly I am having done for Omega, from the rest of the Council; and the existence of new agents to be deployed on her station, from Aria. Although the last one is somewhat justified. For if she knows of them and begins to watch them, there is a chance her enemy might find a way into her communications and shadow them as well. All Aria must know is that Medora is giving me information, and nothing more._

And deception was not a weapon solely wielded by Tevos. During their resumed talk, Medora had kindly admitted to Tevos that because Asari High Command were prone to obsessively spying on one another, she had arranged to meet with Tevos at her family's party weeks in advance, as soon as Asari High Command began their dreadful voting on whether or not to mark Aria as an official enemy. Impressed with her foresight, Tevos inquired about how the matriarch went about doing it. To the councilor's initial disbelief, Medora confessed to meeting with Tevos's relatives soon after she received her own invitation, and had proceeded to convince them of sending one to Tevos. Skepticism had been their reaction. Apparently, Farala claimed that Tevos no longer wanted anything to do with her family, and would surely decline to attend. In the past, Farala recalled times shortly after the quiet, contained, yet devastating falling out between Tevos and her relatives years ago regarding her inheritance. The maiden Tevos had been so very put-off by their blatant disapproval that she refused to attend the next few reunions, after which the family gave up on inviting her at all.

At this point, Tevos politely interjected to tell Medora that these events were not quite faithful to reality. From what Tevos remembered, her invitations ceased as a callous statement of her family's disapprobation. But as she said this, a strange thing happened. A moment during which Tevos abruptly felt a surge of self-doubt. For that instant, she no longer knew which version of the story was true, and the feeling continued to relentlessly haunt her for the rest of the night and into the next day. It was disturbing, how well the ages could distort perception.

Medora had went on, saying that she was eventually able to convince them that Tevos would not refuse the reunion this time, and that having two of the three councilors attend would be a splendid advent indeed. With much to gain and little to lose, Tevos was officially re-added to the guest list.

The rest of Tevos's time on Thessia—including their departure, the journey back to the Citadel, and the following day—was spent drafting statements, arranging a press release for the near future, and making and answering innumerable calls. Not to mention preparing to receive Aria as a guest after they concluded that pooling their current information together would be the best course of action. Their final decision had followed an interesting exchange:

"Do you have any idea of how the forum publication portrays the Council?" Tevos had asked of Aria.

After a faked moment of consideration, she had replied, _"Yes, it makes you look like a major constituent of my empire, doesn't it?"_

"More or less, indeed," the councilor said. "A close ally of _your_ criminal ring. A corrupt and opaque governing body just asking for drastic reaction from its people. You must realize the gravity of what's happened."

_"I do,"_ said Aria. _"Your Spectre was stripped down and redesigned into a threat. A threat to the entire Citadel, warning them of what happens when their politicians get too close to Omega, and a criticism of a government that keeps just one too many secrets. They're trying to pit the entire Citadel against the Council so that you'll abandon our allegiance rather than risk your reputation and job."_

"And just how did this come to be, when _you_ were the one looking for Spectre Neora?" Tevos inquired.

Aria quirked her head to express her cool approach to the ordeal _. "I combed kilometers of area surrounding the site of the accident. I had people out there for days. Erected a secure perimeter and prohibited anyone without proper authorization to approach. I frequently visited the site to oversee the search, but we found nothing."_

"And so," said Tevos, "the only plausible explanation for this outcome would be that while you were preoccupied with deciding whether or not to trust me, unfriendly units were already scouring the wreckage for my Spectre." She had paused to briefly observe the stiff-jawed Aria. "Their determination to sever the delicate ties between us is monumental. An essential part of their plans with no doubt, presumably because they recognize their tremendous inability to meet you in direct war and resort to wounding you politically. If divisiveness is the predominant item of their plans, it's quite obvious what we must do to counteract it."

A smile had appeared on Aria's lips, but it was heavy with an unusual resignation—the ironic acceptance of the councilor's solution, and reluctantly conveyed.

Now Aria sat precisely where she was needed, after having followed the same instructions she used the first time she evaded C-Sec and arrived at Tevos's abode undetected.

Tevos wondered if it was all a terrible inconvenience for her. If it was (and it probably was), Aria was no longer showing many signs of contempt at being there. Perhaps she, like many people of average professions, desired the occasional break from total drudgery and actually appreciated a change of scenery and different company for once. Or, perhaps, Tevos was just wishfully thinking such things were true. Privately hoping that she alone against all the undesirable consequences of being parted from the dearly beloved Omega, was enough to remedy any foul mood Aria might have developed.

And not only privately hoping, but _childishly_ hoping, like a maiden with a head full of glamorous fantasies, all starring the same person lingering just in the other room. A powerful ruler of an exotic land, having left her throne to join a secret collaborative effort after being lured in by prizes of glorious (and fallacious) assured permanency. One regarded as terrible and beautiful in the same moment, with vaporous, indefinable nebulae behind her eyes, and all the passionately wrathful entropy of the Terminus Systems wielded in a single biotically-cloaked fist. One who was forever adorned by an invisible diadem made of flesh, bone, and fire, constructed from the charnel debris accumulated over centuries of perpetuated war.

This visage fluttering about Tevos's mind served as the foundation for her forgiveness of Aria's stubborn personality. She liked her far too much. She was impressed by her far too much. This was especially so in situations where Aria's foresight prevailed despite Tevos believing her ideas to be extraordinarily ill-conceived. It was almost humbling at times, to be reminded that Aria had led a much more tumultuous life than Tevos could ever have dreamed of, yet she emerged fabulously successful.

In this Tevos saw the error of expecting Aria to bow to her directives. It would've been far wiser to anticipate resistance of every sort, for a ruler of such a hostile and resilient world needed to also bear those qualities in herself.

_Not that my lenience excuses her from cooperating with me,_ Tevos thought. _But at least it means I may have some useful insight into what she thinks of me. How she interacts with me, and why she does the things she does. Why she sometimes treats me as though I were about to transform overnight into some hideous foe._

Whether Aria would openly admit it or not, and there were no apparent signs that she ever would, she truly did see Tevos as a dormant threat. The councilor could see her downplayed concerns whenever they deliberated. Concerns of if, or when, a day would arrive where Aria's past entanglements with Citadel politics would return to haunt her.

Omega and the Citadel were not destined to be friends, and this period of calm was but a welcomed anomaly. Too much Council influence would surely damage the distinct boundary between their territories of space, and if, perchance, someone less skilled at maintaining peace replaced Tevos in the future, Aria might find the imperial Citadelian fleets on the doorstep of the Terminus Systems, come to stake colonial claims for a rapidly-expanding galactic society. In the present, as Aria believed, the only barricade keeping Citadel ships away from her borders was the threat of total war. One that could result in thousands, if not millions, of deaths.

But if the Council's behemoth society continued to grow and excel, the powers of the Terminus Systems—with Aria, or even her successor if the scenario was projected far enough into the future, as its spearhead—could be reduced to dust with minimal exertion on the Council's part.

From Tevos's viewpoint, she could not fathom the Council races assembling for such an outrageous conquest. But still she paused and once again modified her thoughts to mimic Aria's mental processes, and found that this concern was not so ridiculous for someone as inured to war as Aria. _War, war, war_ —engulfing Aria's existence, tainting every breath she took in and expelled from her lungs, and throbbing through her mind like the ceaseless beat of drums calling an army to battle. She was always preparing for war, even against her own allies.

_How lonely the Queen must be._

After bidding her secretary a goodnight when their call ended, Tevos turned her mind onto Aria again and thought to herself, _Because of her habits, I fear for this project. I fear that, ultimately, Aria will remain uncooperative and continue to act on her own. She is so firmly situated in the notion that some horrible disaster or fiery demise will meet her if she deigns to cooperate with me..._

While heading back into the bluish darkness of the hallway, Tevos's steps slowed to a glacial pace. She could hear speech drifting through the calm air, traveling away from its source in her bedroom and reaching her notice. It was obviously Aria's voice, yet Tevos spent a few seconds wondering why she was speaking until she realized that Aria was holding a call of her own. As she neared the bedroom again, Tevos paused, leaning against the wall to keep out of sight, and eavesdropped.

"I don't care who started it," she heard Aria say. "Your jobs are to remain _discreetly posted_ until I give you orders. You get that idiot off the floor right now and get the hell out of there before C-Sec detains you." She became quiet to listen to her contact's response. "Just do as I've said. Being here is _vital,_ do you understand? Being here is an absolute priority and I'm not going to let a few fuck-ups like your squad compromise our cover. If you get yourselves arrested I'm not coming to save you. You can rot in a Citadel cell for all eternity. I could honestly care less. Just get him out of there and keep your damaged heads down or we're leaving without you in a few hours."

Bitter silence marked the end of Aria's call. By then, Tevos had crept over to the doorway, now coming to stand within its frame. She found Aria in a different place than where she had left her; the other asari was now standing at the councilor's short, rectangular dresser while sticking her hands and fingers into a polished wooden jewelry case set upon it, along with a few other lavish boxes for accessories and delicate items. In the limited light, Tevos could see the glint of metal and the gleam of gorgeously cut stones on Aria's wrists and fingers. A single moment of observation was all that was required to understand what she was doing: reaching into the case, lifting up various rings, bangles, and ornate brooches to examine their fine quality before donning them herself.

For a moment, Tevos didn't process seeing Aria rifling through her belongings. She was temporarily obsessed with Aria's conversation, rapidly analyzing what had been said, and realizing that Aria greatly valued her time on the Citadel, having called it _vital_.

Suddenly, her pessimism about the success of their project was drastically reduced, and her appreciation reciprocally increased in response.

Aria glanced over at Tevos, remnants of irritation still lingering in her features. There was little else to be found in the way of interpretable expressions. Not even a trace of abashment at being found with hands, arms, and chest made into a gaudy exhibit worth hundreds of thousands of credits.

While slipping another green-jeweled ring onto a finger already bearing two others, and subsequently holding up her hand with fanned-out fingers to examine the jewel, Aria offhandedly remarked, "You have the tastes of an old matriarch."

"Meaning?" Tevos asked. She plucked a silvery bracelet from Aria's grasp before she could try it on and returned it to its original location.

"Meaning you're hanging onto aesthetic trends from a millennium ago," said Aria. Her eyes immediately locked with Tevos's when the latter seized her wrist and oriented it toward her. Tevos began reclaiming her belongings from the limb.

"Well," Tevos placidly began to answer, "I _am_ nearing matriarchal years. I believe I have permission to keep the stylistic preferences I grew up with crystallized in time. We can't all behave like you—exfoliating memories as the years pass, killing your identities and reincarnating into people free from all the echoes and dreams of your past lives; the things someone like myself is inclined to preserve through ancient-looking trinkets."

As she continued removing the rings from Aria's fingers and the bangles from her wrists, Tevos vaguely noticed the similarity of their ring size. It surprised her. She was so used to being told by friends and family that her hands and fingers were relatively thin, and consequently she had always judged Aria's hands as being far stronger and thus thicker than her own. But in reality—in mathematical reality, as proven by the physical, unchanging constants found in dimensions of the rings—the difference wasn't so vast at all. Barely a single ring size, deduced by the disparities between the rings' usual positions on Tevos's hands contrasted with different fingers when worn by Aria.

_I never really had the leisure to observe you properly,_ Tevos mused to herself, hoping Aria's watchful stare would not be able to decipher her thoughts. _Things between us once moved painfully fast and you were just a glimpse to me. Some spectral glimpse upon which I mentally constructed the rest of you, artificially substituting things I never saw with things I merely believed were there. I truly thought I saw and understood... but I suppose I did not. And so I wonder if I ever will._

Aria had slender hands. They had lost a bit of their smoothness from frequent abuse, as Tevos remembered first noticing years ago, but their attractiveness and charm had miraculously remained intact and unworn by centuries of brutal erosion. She could almost feel the fire of Aria's nerves beneath her skin, traveling through the fingertips subtly massaging along the surface and pouring into the length of her arm. From there the sensation billowed, permeating her chest, her other limbs... and the regions of her body most susceptible to their suggestion.

And Tevos became quite aware of something—painfully aware of how easy it would've been to take that hand and reticently slip it beneath the hem of her nightshirt, or past her waistband. When she ventured to imagine what lovely sensations Aria's fingers would produce when so carefully fitted between her legs, Tevos realized that she had nearly ceased breathing altogether.

To effectively hide her cognitions, she inhaled a healthy amount of air and spoke to Aria again, "May I ask why you have no reservations about going through my private and valuable possessions?"

Aria furrowed her brow, turning her eyes away to fake a period of careful thought. She kept her arm voluntarily extended and in the councilor's grasp. "It probably has to do with the fact that they're private and valuable."

"Or," said Tevos, briefly rotating her torso to fit a ring into its slot between the two thin rolls of burgundy velvet designed to hold it, "perhaps you did this because you knew that I would eventually intervene and manually remove them from your person?" She released Aria's wrist, then reached out to grip her other. When she lifted her gaze again, she found a thin veneer of intrigue shining in Aria's eyes, evidently coaxed out by the oblique suggestion.

"Perhaps," Aria echoed in an amused hum. When the councilor had finished stripping her limbs clean of borrowed jewelry, her arm was returned and attention now fell upon the trio of brooches decorating her chest.

Tevos did not dare. She merely extended an open palm, requesting that the items be placed there.

"You know," Aria calmly stated as she began to unpin the accessories, "you're really not as pliable as they say."

The councilor frowned as the last traces of arousal departed her mind. "As _who_ says—"

"You're actually a bit domineering," Aria cut off Tevos's materializing question. "I noticed this early on. Originally, of course, it was just your façade. But even after the deception game had ended, still you obsessively coordinated everything we did." When the brooches were dropped into Tevos's palm, Aria fitted her hands on her own hips and gave a short, exasperated sigh. She looked and sounded as if she had abruptly discovered the existence of an annoying obstacle preventing her from reaching an undeclared goal. "I don't know if this is going to work out," she irksomely pondered aloud.

Tevos cautiously eyed her, still cradling the brooches in her open hand. "What might not work out?"

"Us, obviously," Aria clarified, glaring pensively into the darkness.

For the second time that night, Tevos fought in vain against unsolicited warmth creeping into her face. She silently thanked Athame that it was dark enough in the room for it to go unnoticed, and swallowed the bulk of her discomfort before proceeding to place her jewelry back into its chest. "Well for something to have any chance at all of 'working out', it must be first initiated, correct? And I don't believe we've _initiated_ anything at all."

Aria gave a sharp exhale. "You have the nerve to demand my cooperation and compliance and yet you don't even acknowledge our alliance? I believe the deal we made was 'co-effort', and I more or less agreed. If you redefine the terms again I might just walk out completely."

Tevos stood statuesque for an instant, rapidly processing her misunderstanding and feeling like a complete fool. "So you do agree, then?" she asked, attempting to save herself from embarrassment. "If you did agree ten minutes ago you were quite evasive about it. An explicit 'yes' or 'no' is generally the most accepted way of expressing yourself."

"Yes, yes," Aria made a dismissive gesture with her hand. "I'll disclose information on a need-to-know basis and I will not break the fingers of High Command's agents without giving you notice." She peered into the open chest and found that—similar to her books—Tevos also systematically organized her jewelry by stone type and band material. Her eyes then focused on an item she neglected during her investigation.

"Without _seeking my_ _agreement,_ you mean," Tevos corrected her.

Aria disregarded her edit and fished a hand into a small compartment. She retrieved a dainty pendant bearing a lucent green stone as its focus, but before she could properly behold the gem, it began to descend along a strip of the chain it was strung upon. Its path was destined straight for the floor, but Aria fortunately caught the gemstone in time before it was lost to the darkness of the room. When she noticed Tevos instinctively reaching out to pry it from her fingers, Aria held it away and faced the bedroom's window to capture just enough light to see the break in the silvery chain. Tevos successfully snatched it from her on her second attempt to do so.

"I'd very much appreciate it if you would accompany me to my study," Tevos coldly said, delicately returning the broken item to its isolated compartment. "As you can see, my disapproval of your intrusions is wholly justified."

Her eyes remained fixated on the pendant right up until the moment when Tevos shut the chest. "Now why would the asari councilor keep a broken necklace?" Aria roguishly wondered.

"Why would the ruler of Omega care?" Tevos retorted, momentarily glancing at her before turning around. She began heading toward her study.

Aria pursued while her lips began to curl into a fascinated smile. "The ruler of Omega didn't get so far without ample amounts of reconnaissance. I care about all things—strategic, technologic, and _especially_ private."

Tevos turned on her heel to confront Aria again once they emerged in the hallway, bringing them both to a face-to-face standstill. "My mother gave it to me long ago," she dryly answered Aria's question. "A gift for one of my birthdays. I used to wear it quite often when I was a maiden... My mother would always tell me that the stone matched my eyes. There was profound, poetic affection in that comment." Tevos neatly folded her arms, tucking them into the soft folds of her robe, and quietly exhaled in a controlled sigh. "And several years ago I snagged the chain on a dress zipper. I've been meaning to get it repaired, but I just haven't found the time to arrange anything. Hopefully I shall finally have some time after we've resolved all our issues." She took a step toward the study again, only to pause, revoke her motion, and address Aria once more, "I don't suppose you'd be one to have kept gifts from your own mother. But memories, perhaps?"

"A respectable attempt," Aria granted her, "but I won't be talking about that."

"Not even one harmless anecdote?" Tevos pried as they stepped into the study, turning on the gold-tinted lights upon entering. She sat in one of the armchairs and watched Aria settle down into its twin. "Not a single mentioning of an item or even a characteristic you might have inherited from her? Your heart, maybe? That fiery sphere of penitentiary afterlife roasting away in your chest?"

"From that question I assume you maternally received your own heart—your cold, lonely graveyard?"

Tevos's good spirits dwindled. She cast Aria a look of piercing, blank disapproval, to which the other asari responded with guiltless and content silence.

"While I greatly enjoy being so discursive with you, we need to do business," Tevos frigidly declared, and Aria was left to idly ponder about why such a relatively benign quip—extremely similar to the one Tevos unleashed against Aria in the first place—had caused her so much offense. Moments before, Tevos had been in such amiable spirits, and the rapid decline came off as somewhat peculiar.

The councilor rose from her chair and traveled to her desk over which a wall-mounted monitor awaited her activation. She brought its projection to life, sending soothing blue radiance pouring and blending into the golden light already glazing the study's interior. With a few gestures of her hand the monitor's display responded, arriving to an empty screen reading a short line of geometric text requesting its master to transfer files for viewing. Tevos faced Aria again. "Because we have such a rich history of disagreement," she wryly said to her, "I'd like to propose to you a model of effective discourse. It shall be fair to both sides and it shall be very intelligible. If you should also like this model, we will use it; and if you do not like it, please suggest reasonable changes you would implement to design the best procedure possible."

Aria gave a single dip of her chin, a nod more or less.

Tevos folded her hands behind her back, effortlessly morphing back into the asari councilor seen in the media broadcasts circulating the galaxy. A character of consummate posture, coherent speech, and an enviable ability seize control of immense political deliberations with a single well-placed interjection. The only aberration from her usual form, Aria found, was her attire.

"Neither of us would refute the suggestion that many of our conversations end in impasses or private decisions to employ deception," the councilor said, the mixed baths of light visibly collecting along the curves of her cheekbones. "We need to move forward. We must find solutions that benefit us both in satisfactory ways, and the only way we will achieve that is through patient, open discourse removed from informal conflicts. We both have distinctly powerful agendas and stances, Aria. They will not always agree, but they must be heard in equal measure." She glanced to the monitor, using her omni-tool to transfer a few files to its display. A few cryptically-labelled folders appeared. "We need a wide field of vision. We need to know _everything_ that has happened. And in order for us to make educated decisions for the future, we must effectively argue our points and provide adequate supporting evidence to sway the other into agreement. Therefore I propose we take turns in presenting data on this monitor, during which the passive one remains completely silent and attentive while withholding all comments, questions, and objections until the presenter is finished or otherwise authorizes speech. Would you agree to this?"

Aria tapped a finger upon the chair's arm while she scrutinized the monitor and Tevos in equal measure, and thoroughly analyzed the situation for any qualities she didn't like. She found none. "It'll do," she informed Tevos.

With both sides satisfied, Tevos cleared the monitor with a gesture and said to Aria, "You may have the floor first." She began retreating back to her seat as Aria rose. "As I promised, I shall not interrupt unless I have your permission, but I will expect to receive the same courtesy from you."

They crossed paths. Once Aria had reached the spot Tevos had previously occupied, she turned around again. "I suspect you'll want me to disclose details of events that were initially kept vague," she sardonically assumed.

Tevos responded with a polite nod and smile.

A slight shifting of Aria's jaw communicated her acknowledgement. "Well then," evenly said the crime lord, "where to begin?" She cracked a smirk when she saw the dismay creeping into Tevos's face, then turned to access her omni-tool before throwing a few files onto the monitor. The display flickered as bits of lights arranged themselves into a gruesome mass of bleeding flesh and shredded bits of lightweight armor. Amid the gory entanglement, Tevos was able to distinguish a single feature of significance: small nodules radiating faint green light to announce the functionality of a kinetic barrier system, albeit dimmer now, with some of them cracked and made dark by an unknown trauma.

"This was my assailant," Aria nonchalantly gestured to the image of the corpse, regarding it with as much austerity as she would when referring to the banality of weather conditions. She used two fingers—the pairing of her thumb and index—to draw attention to relevant features. "This armor is either a prototype or being sold with no official manufacturer. _However,_ some research and analysis shows structural and material similarities often used by Armax Arsenal. It might be a mimic Terminus company or a stolen and altered design. Immediately after the assassination attempt I started monitoring this specific armor. Tracing shipments wherever I could. Some were being bought by a mercenary guild whose base of operations was located in Omega's Zeta District, where I sent an infiltration team to acquire further records of transactions and operations. No connections to other bounty hunters or assassin groups were found. But some evidence was recovered that revealed their unexpressed alignment: hostile toward my interests and allies. This was dealt with."

Aria detected some discomforted body language expressed by the councilor. She perceptively initiated a pause after tilting her head in question and saying to her, "Comments?"

Tevos shook her head.

"After," Aria resumed, "I sent investigation team Bindur to locate the sources of these armor shipments. They returned with countless references and I'm having every single one thoroughly evaluated. Meanwhile, nearly half of my teams are occupied with the mysterious circumstances of the many deaths in my administration." She cleared the monitor with a swipe of a hand and replaced its contents with a collage of images depicting the various and grotesque deaths of Aria's highest-ranking officers. It was a visage of flesh glistening with recent death; a portrait of hateful mutilation, of tables supporting masses of putrescence, of nauseating organic debris that brutally reminded all spectators of terrifying and uniform fragility. Tevos was developing a small yet unyielding rictus of horror on her features as her eyes wandered about the terrible collection. "As I've told you before, the assassinations were all personal, complex, and left each scene with little traceable evidence. Very professional. The IDs found on those who tried to kill me were nearly useless due to their lack of affiliation with any notable entities. IDs on Omega generally only contain basic personal information and received authorization codes transmitted by their employers or occupation. If there were a place or a person worth being connected to it would've been encrypted there. We suspect the IDs were fakes."

At this time, unlike the previous instance, Tevos actually had something to say regarding the inefficacy of the Omegan public identification system, but Aria denied her the opportunity by intentionally ignoring the signs of an obvious desire to speak. Apparently, she possessed enough foresight to predict Tevos's sanctimonious lecture.

"In other news, the attacks ceased after they came for me and failed," said Aria, exhibiting an underlying vein of pride in the stated fact. "Conjecture about the reasons finds it likely that their projected plans ended with my death, and now that it has not happened, they may be scrambling to design a second wave of attacks. Whatever the truth may be, one thing remains clear to me: we must move quickly while we have the chance. We must find them and _eliminate_ them before they can properly regroup. My current administration was assembled from a shrinking pool of contacts who meet my requisites: a _long_ record of trustworthiness and adeptness in all vital mental and physical faculties. If I start losing more of them I may not be able to fill the holes again. Not with agents of quality."

Tevos motionlessly peered at her, maintaining an unchanging mutual gaze over which the lights radiating out from the monitor settled and wavered. She was surprised at Aria's honesty, not expecting her to admit to facing an alarming precipice capable of causing massive damages to her syndicate. Immediately she ascribed Aria's aggressive inclinations to this very issue and to impatience with Tevos's lack of expediency on her end of their alliance. And at the same time, Tevos also began to wonder why Aria had concealed the concern for so long.

_Pride, as usual_ , she inwardly speculated.

"My former lieutenant, Eruam Anikot, is still evading capture," Aria bitterly mentioned. "I've sent my people after him but he's gone utterly silent. Anikot is one of the only links we have to the enemy. So if he's managed to escape Omega, or if he's dead... we'll have to find another point of access."

Tevos folded a leg over the other and neatly stacked her hands in her lap. A garish surmise had been forming in her mind over the course of Aria's disquisition, and only then did Tevos find it restless enough to interject. With a tactful, hardly-detectable parting of her lips and the tiniest quirk of her head she announced her plans to speak, and when Aria's displeasure did not arch into blatant contempt, she proceeded as if given implicit permission, "These assassinations—the ones that eliminated more than half of your administration within the span of a week. How concerned are you about them? Not necessarily in terms of their effectiveness... but of their nature."

Aria stoically eyed her with a certain darkness that suggested offense had been taken. "Their nature?" she repeated.

"You very well know what I mean," said Tevos. "I know the killings have frustrated you, but I'm curious to know whether they have also _unnerved_ you. Not only were they planned to desecrate any image each victim might have prided themselves on, but they were also planned to strike fear. And what better way to strike fear, than to assault you and the entirety of Omega with visions of inexplicable horrors? You remain unable to answer the question of how you lost Olat Dar'nerah to this malevolent practice, and you have witnessed my elite Spectre fall prey to it as well. Are you concerned about the possibility of it happening again?"

"I want it to happen again."

A shallow and confused crease found Tevos's brow.

"I want it to happen again because it'll give me another chance to find out who's fucking with me," Aria said with no small amount of irritation, folding her arms across her chest and turning her head to eye the images and blocks of data she was presenting. The vacuous gazes and mutilated shells of her former lieutenants did not seem to disturb her beyond the threshold of pure anger. "Because right now it's dead end after fucking dead end. If High Command isn't our primary enemy, despite all the reasons they've given me to believe they _are_ , then we don't have a target anymore. So I say _let them_ try it again. I say _let them_ put out another walking corpse, so I can get my hands on it, peel it open, and see what's going on inside. It'll lead me to them. And when I find them, they're going to regret ever crossing me." After unfolding her arms, she waved a hand over the monitor to erase the files and pushed herself away from the councilor's desk, headed back toward the chairs.

"I've nothing more for you," Aria said while sitting down again, keeping her eyes away from Tevos's and raising a hand before pensively applying it to her jaw.

A moment of hesitation passed, followed by Tevos's noiseless rise from her seat and her migration to the monitor in a similar fashion. From her omni-tool's many secure files she selected several, transferred them to the display, and permitted Aria to view a formal document accompanied by the image of five batarians seated in one grand hall. "As you remember, we previously believed the Batarian Hegemony was stonewalling the arrest of those trespassers on Camala for whatever reasons they had, presumably hidden interests. Very recently this was found to be inaccurate. It is not deliberate stalling that hinders progress, but instability within their own government. My own networks have passed onto me proof of internal feuds amongst the sovereign's advisors, and subsequently the sovereign has already dismissed two of them and will likely dismiss those who remain within a few weeks—but until then, batarian politics are grinding to a halt. I suspect them to recover after their government has centralized its power in that single man. While worrisome, the Citadel and the Asari Republics are already acquitting you, and when we receive reports of what will be found on Camala our decision will only be reinforced. So, we nevertheless gained what we originally sought: reduced stigmatization towards maintaining neutral and non-invasive policies between Omega and the territories mentioned in our treaty."

Tevos removed the images and began sifting through her archives of data for the next revelation. She paused when she came across a file containing the pseudonyms of the agents Medora had promised to send her, deeply considering for a moment whether or not she should share the information with Aria.

She did not.

Instead, Tevos concealed her betrayal of the expressed idyll of _open, honest discourse_ and opened an extranet window. It was the source of the article documenting the fate of Spectre Neora; a forum located on a site founded by economics enthusiasts.

"This post appeared while I was visiting family," said Tevos. "Medora was the first to alert me of its presence, content, and impact. All of which completely negate what we are accomplishing with the situation on Camala. Namely, placing you back into a nonthreatening light. But because of this _atrocity_ , the scale has dramatically and wildly tipped to the other extreme. Rather than trying to make you appear as unfriendly and potentially hostile to the Citadel again, your enemy is finding unprecedented success in making us appear too _close._ A massive change in tactic. And it unfortunately had a profound effect on my people. This morning I gave a brief address in an attempt to quell widespread dissatisfaction, and a little while ago my secretary informed me that it was received well."

"They misplace a lot of faith in you, don't they?"

An involuntarily smile borne from confusion passed over Tevos's features. "Excuse me?"

"The people you govern," Aria elaborated. "They have more faith in their government than I expected."

Tevos hesitated before replying, "Well, I certainly would not call it faith. Faith is not required to be based upon prior or existing evidence, whereas _trust_ often is. So I would rather denominate it as _trust_ because my actions in office have usually been regarded as fair and I've miraculously accumulated extremely few blemishes on my reputation." She gave a sigh of resignation. "Although that may not be completely true anymore, given recent events..."

While Tevos transferred her attention from the monitor to her new stream of thought, Aria had placed her hands on her chair's arms, finding purchase on them and pushing herself onto her feet. There she stood for a few long seconds, gaze holding a straight, unwavering line as it was cast onto the extranet page and only minutely faltering when her pale eyes flitted over lines of text. The intensity of her analysis quickly drew Tevos's notice, pulling her out of her musings and leading her to fixate on Aria's expression; an odd sort of vacancy that plainly evidenced a disjunction between her physical environment and the landscape of her mind.

Without diverting her stare, Aria released the arms of the chair and strode a few steps forward, bathing herself in the center of the blue-gold wash and scanning the post for the traits she sought. Idle hands found her hips as she absorbed herself in a search for yet untold points of significance.

"What type of servers does this site use?" she asked Tevos. "How does it receive and transmit data?"

Tevos gave her a perplexed look when Aria glanced over at her, prepared to receive a reply the councilor did not possess. Aria began manipulating the extranet page with a single hand while her companion remained silent, scrolling past the haunting images of Tevos's Spectre and all the text that followed until she reached the bottom of the entire page. Information about the site and its declaimers were fixed there. Aria accessed one of the links before skimming through its contents, in which she eventually discovered where the site was based: comfortably deep in salarian space, on that species' homeworld of Sur'Kesh.

The councilor watched with intrigue as Aria made a call. A recording, rather, as it would not arrive at the inbox of the recipient for nearly ten minutes or more depending on how far away the individual was.

"Renaga, I need you to do some research for me," she heard Aria say. "Get some information on the extranet community 'Worthy Calculus'. It's based on Sur'Kesh. I want you to get some people over there and I want them to find out what type of servers they use. I need to get into their history of transmissions. Let me know when you've arranged something."

At last Tevos comprehended what Aria intended, but it did not sit well with her at all. "...This isn't legal," she said.

Aria rolled her eyes and disregarded the concern by revealing her plans, "Many extranet sites currently have a security flaw that my experts have recently learned to exploit. We've found a way to tap into all the data a site has received from its contributing members, including information about where each submission came from. We've done this a handful of times before, and it should work again. If all goes accordingly... we'll be able to identify which communication buoy this post was relayed through, and from there, we can trace it all the way back to the original zone of service, which on Omega are usually areas of a ten-kilometer radius."

Realization subjected Tevos to a long pause. She returned Aria's stare, but unlike the crime lord's superior confidence the councilor sent back mild astonishment. At last she spoke, "And from that isolated sphere, we can examine its inhabitants for anomalous or extraordinary profiles. We could very well find the author of the forum post, and finding them... would inevitably lead us to their allies."

Still smiling, Aria gave Tevos another one of her peculiar nods—a single inclining of her chin—and turned back toward the monitor. She folded her arms across her chest while slyly remarking, "Aren't you glad you invited me back?"

"Ecstatic," Tevos replied with ample sarcasm. Her words were not malicious, however. She meant them to carry a jovial tone, her mystifying blend of emotions felt toward Aria. Delight at her resourcefulness and competency, but disapproval whenever self-awareness of the two qualities fueled her arrogance.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

There was little Rasma or Malak could say upon seeing Liselle emerge from the elevator in the Eclipse-occupied tower. Her failure to persuade Wasea came as no surprise, given how vehemently opposed to Aria's proposition the first lieutenant was from the moment she was first exposed to its terms. But among the many things that _had_ met their expectations, the lone dissident exuded a quantity of significance so grossly large that it proceeded to occupy their heads with refreshed suspicions about who exactly Liselle was, for the rest of the day, and even beyond. For a high-ranking Eclipse officer to appear so shocked at Liselle's presence and to be driven to single her out and initiate a long conversation behind locked doors was of immense interest. What had been said in the heights of that dark tower? What business did someone like Wasea have with a clueless maiden like Liselle and what proportions of gravity did that unknown business fit?

Amid the many questions one thing remained brilliantly clear: their young asari squadmate was not who she claimed to be.

When the company of three passed through the outpost's gates, Liselle continued to make as little eye contact as possible with her teammates. She could feel their dissecting stares upon her at all times, probing for answers but unable to pierce through her intensely secretive disposition. At the earliest opportunity she left their party to continue the journey back on her own, even going so far as to take a different route home which added nearly ten minutes to the total time the commute normally consumed.

Once home, Liselle changed clothes, drank a tall glass of water, and relaxed in a chair at the small table placed in the apartment's kitchenette for several minutes before getting up again and fitting a sidearm into her belt. Determined to satisfy at least one plan she had set for herself that day, Liselle disembarked into the markets just a few blocks away and immersed herself in the bustling foot-traffic.

Ever since Liselle first stepped onto one of the streets filled by mobile kiosks—engulfed by the din of commerce, littered with beggars, and the air rich with the scents of various foods both familiar and alien—the maiden had taken an instant liking to the enveloping culture. The reason for her fondness seemed to lie solely in the complexity of the diversion, that there was simply so very much to see and examine. So many wares and people occupying the exact same place, all mingling, and none knowing for certain if they might find some fascinating rarity for sale that was usually banned in other major societies speckling the galaxy. And the merchants who sold such items, Liselle had found, made no secret of it. It was actually quite the opposite in that they capitalized on the exoticism by using it as a tool of appeal when vying for the eye of a potential buyer.

Liselle spent some time leisurely gazing over metal crates filled with herbs and spices before coming to a stop in front of a small truck whose stern had been converted into tanks filled with water and live fish. The metal plates shielding the tanks during transport had been retracted, putting their cargo on display to advertise the freshness of the meat against nearby competitors who often stocked their fish already dead, lain upon beds of ice or within sealed packages or containers. When Liselle stopped to peruse the tanks she watched the crowded interiors glimmer with the sheen of scales, marveling at their vibrantly-hued lobed fins, and became fixed under the active attention of innumerable large round eyes darting about the sepia world and its inhabitants lying beyond their glass prisons. She was captivated. Seeing the maiden's interest, one of the salarian owners directed her to an electronic catalog containing information on each fish accompanied with its cost. As expected, Liselle found several to be members of protected species, listed at exorbitant prices. She disregarded those and selected the same type of fish she had seen on Wasea's plate earlier that day.

After singling out the individual she wanted and transferring a tidy sum of credits to the merchants, one of the salarian's workers previously found sitting on the top of the truck shifted over, fished out the flailing animal, and applied a hand-held mechanism to its head. A small blade pierced the fish's skull, twisted, and was removed as the body went limp. It was promptly slipped into a silvery bag lined with a mantle of ice to keep the meat cool, then finally transferred to Liselle's hands.

She slung the bag over one shoulder and made the return trip home, periodically redistributing her light burden of weight and its gradually-leaking chill. A curious feeling doused her on the short journey. A transient sense of being an undertaker heading to her morgue with a cadaver in tow, carefully planning the trims of herbs and fruits that would line its dish-like casket.

The fish was dropped onto the countertop as soon as Liselle reached it, and afterward she retreated to browse recipes on the extranet. It wasn't until many were deemed inadequate did Liselle finally become aware of her strong intent to replicate Wasea's meal, and when she did, she briefly paused to wonder why.

_It looked really good,_ she thought, assigning her simplest explanation the most feasibility. _But she did say it was awful. So maybe I could just be... testing her sanity. As if whether this fish turns out good or bad decides if I'll take her up on that deal._

It was of course too subjective of an experiment to base her decisions on, but Liselle couldn't help but allocate a substantial amount of significance to the outcome of her next meal.

Eventually she settled on a preparation procedure, propping up a datapad on the counter near where she would work so referring back to the steps would not prove cumbersome. The first listed step was easily anticipated.

With a knife in hand and the fish laid out on a cutting board, Liselle found herself stalling; looking into the wide and dead eye of the Thessian creature and feeling as if it were still tracking her every movement. As if it would be charged by the same nightmarish phenomenon plaguing Aria's administration, suddenly and vigorously reanimated to writhe on the counter in feverish torment. She was assaulted by images of muscles hideously convulsing with surges of energy borrowed from evil dimensions, only for the flesh to soon experience death a second and final time. She banished the ghastly thoughts from her conscience by carving a slit into the fish's belly, neutralizing the haunting effect the carcass—intact and positively overflowing with the potential for motion—exerted on her psyche. Liselle swiftly removed the purplish organs spilling from its carcass and disposed of them, recalling the way Iaera would prepare whole fish for them back when they still lived together.

As she rinsed the residue of gore from her hands, Liselle began to think about past days spent with her caretaker and all the meals she once helped prepare from the day she was old enough not only to read the labels on packaging and containers, but also when she could reach them. Once that milestone in age and stature had been met, Liselle had taken joy in making herself useful while enjoying the company of a beloved other.

Her childhood had been a lonely one. There was nothing anyone could hope to say that could stand as a proper argument against the assertion, for there were few other scenarios in which Liselle would've interacted with _less_ people than she had. It was Iaera, Zuria, making the acquaintance of the occasional commando or doctor, and Aria. That was all—the entire cast of people whose presence populated her life since birth.

Up until recently.

And yet... still, such a powerful sense of loneliness would abruptly grip her at unexpected times, as it did at that very instant. Not due to her reminiscing and mourning of a socially deficient childhood, but because the present had so cruelly stolen the most permanent monuments in her life away from her, sending them off to new preoccupations across Omega.

_Don't be selfish,_ she tried to remind herself while setting the fish into a glass dish. People like Zuria and Iaera were very capable and their skills would better off be utilized for projects more important than keeping Liselle company.

Despite her self-reprimanding, Liselle still yearned to speak to them—either of them—just for a brief amount of time. She spent some time standing there at the counter, mulling over the time of day and the worst possible consequences of sending a call their ways.

_The worst that could happen,_ she optimistically thought, _is having my call ignored or being told they're busy._

With this in mind she contacted Iaera, using the period of waiting before the other asari answered to quickly fabricate an excuse to talk to her again: an innocent question about what seasonings were Iaera's favorite when applied to this particular breed of fish.

_"Liselle?"_

The girl's voice stalled in her throat for an instant. "Iaera, I... I was just calling to ask you a quick question. Are you busy right now?"

_"No, not at the moment. What did you need?"_

"I was hoping you'd give me some culinary advice," Liselle said, picking her voice up to imitate a more radiant mood. She leaned her arms against the counter, peering out a small window while speaking. "I bought a Thessian orola today. What sort of seasonings would you use?"

_"Well, I actually can't recall ever cooking one myself, so I'm not very familiar with the taste. I'm used to southeastern fish; they're what I grew up with. If I recall correctly... orola is native to the central Thessian isles, right?"_

"Yeah," said Liselle. "...Isles like Ianthe."

_"Maybe this is an excellent chance to experiment on your own,"_ suggested Iaera. _"You've always been very creative. I'm sure whatever you choose will work out fantastically."_

The maiden said nothing. Noticing her descent into silence, Iaera asked her, _"So... how have you been, Liselle?"_

"I've been fine," she answered. "Everything's going pretty well. How are you?"

_"Fairly well off. Thank you for asking."_

"What have you been up to lately?"

Iaera paused for an extended amount of time. _"...I think it would be best if we didn't talk about that, Liselle. I hope you understand."_

Liselle gave a quiet exhale and replied, "Yes. Sorry."

After an exchange of brief and emaciated statements, their call ended and Liselle was left to season her fish based on her own limited understandings of the highly nuanced palate of taste. Once sufficiently satisfied with her choices she set the fish to broil, planning on checking its progress regularly to ensure no overcooking would spoil her dinner. She relocated to her tidy front room, sitting down on a sofa where she seriously considered calling Zuria as well, but decided to try later that night when her former mentor was more likely to be finished with whatever projects Aria might have given her that day. As far as Liselle knew, both Zuria and her mother adhered to the same circadian rhythm and were expected to retire to bed during similar hours of the perpetual Omegan dusk. To entertain herself in the meantime, Liselle streamed a news broadcast through her omni-tool and established a link to a monitor on the wall for leisurely viewing.

While Omega certainly had their own news broadcasts, Liselle had abandoned them long ago, ever since she first learned that nine times out of ten, Omega's reporters only bothered to cover (or avoid) events depending on who was willing to dump the largest mountain of credits on their station's doorstep. In response, she, like many other Omegan denizens curious about the happenings around the galaxy at large, migrated to broadcasts originating from the Traverse and even to channels carrying the words of Citadelian journalists. Even Aria had never granted local information sources so much as a first chance, instead relying almost exclusively upon her own personal intelligence networks for updates. As much as Liselle's mother might have been in love with the wanton markets and free-flowing rivers of crooked credits pouring into her station's industries, she knew better than most of just how corrupt and unreliable news from Omega was.

Liselle watched the segments, deciding that she liked the asari reporter's dress while listening to her relay stories about a fuel station construction accident in volus space, a sharp economic dip and complimentary decrease in investor confidence when a handful of massive companies (that Liselle had never heard of before) lost a litigation earlier in the week, and an insect species once declared extinct recently found still clinging to existence on a salarian colony.

In the end, the fish was quite palatable. She brought her plate back the sofa where she lounged haphazardly across its seats, proceeding to enjoy her dinner with the broadcast continuing on for her to listen. Her attention waned over the next few minutes as she became completely involved with her meal, and only began actively listening again upon hearing some key words emitted from the news broadcast. She looked up at the monitor, taking in the familiar sights of Omega's spires. Reporters and their camera drones had stationed themselves on a street with a broken guardrail, periodically referring to the spot as 'the scene of the incident' based on projected estimations of where 'the body' likely fell from to crash down on a bridge extended between two spires roughly two kilometers below the site. Liselle watched in confusion, trying to assemble bits of information to reconstruct the event being spotlighted. It wasn't until the reporters from the Attican Traverse were intimidated away from area by a pair of approaching krogan (the very same ones who had stood guard at the location housing the first briefing of Aria's investigation teams, Liselle recognized) pushing past the spectating pedestrians and the small crew working to repair the guardrail, did the news segment switch away to a recorded statement given by the asari councilor.

Liselle listened to the highlights, now understanding that in some freak accident, a Spectre daring enough to dock in the bays of Omega had been murdered. That on its own wasn't very surprising to Liselle. Spectres, let alone any agents from the other side of the Traverse, were not exactly welcome on Omega. Generally, they never operated so deeply within Terminus Space from the sheer terror of triggering a cataclysmic war, but this one had not seemed to share that fear with those of her occupation. Evidently, bravery and duty had led to her demise, not to mention the people of Council space all crying out at the Council in unison, _"Keep us away from the Terminus Systems!"_

But what of Aria? She _had_ to have known the Spectre was on Omega. Aria _always_ knew. And if she had known, she would've immediately detained and expelled the Spectre from her station, for war was not something exclusively feared by the Council. Aria had zero intentions of allowing a huge liability—essentially a live grenade—to strut freely around Omega, poking her nose into the business of people who would rather see her beheaded before coexisting peacefully alongside someone representing the _Citadel Council._

As demonstrated, the former route had been chosen, Liselle grimly thought. And judging by the state of affairs, neither side was issuing blame for the incident. Aria had made no comment. Meanwhile, the Council had shrugged their shoulders with a sincerely apologetic " _Accidents happen."_ Criticism of the Council was certainly mounting... but oddly enough, none of it had originated from Aria, who Liselle expected would've been the most enraged of all.

Something wasn't right.

When she was only a few minutes into her musings, Liselle was startled by the tiny chime of a message arriving at her omni-tool's inbox. She immediately rose, lifting her plate from its precarious resting spot on her chest and setting it down carefully on a low table.

At first her heart leaped at the idea of the sender being Iaera, passing onto Liselle a happy suggestion for a future rendezvous, but when she activated her omni-tool and accessed her messages, her spirits fell and twisted in disconcertion as a different, sinister name glowed in the place where her surrogate mother's should've been:

.

TO: LISELLE KASANTIS  
FROM: [ECLIPSE OUTPOST GF-127] 1LT WASEA  
SUBJECT: Hey

I'd like to make something very clear. I don't consider myself an enemy of your boss, and I don't consider myself an enemy of you either. I'm only interested in seeing the rest of this play out on an even field.

Because it would just break my sensitive heart to see you making some bad choices on our behalf, on our negligence.

You see, Liselle, I'm rarely drunk enough to suddenly decide that a change in leadership is a good idea. That isn't necessarily so. But what _is_ a good idea, is giving the most important people on this station all the information they need to make educated decisions. Someday you're likely going to enjoy certain privileges that involve relaying the dictations for what the rest of us do, so it would be completely asinine of me to let someone like you fumble around in the dark without knowing who's who and what's what.

Whatever may come, let the girl at least be educated. Let the girl do what she thinks is best. Let the girl have choices and resources. For someone always obsessing about freedom and self-determination, her superior hasn't saved much of that for the people closest to her.

I'm also rarely drunk enough to make outrageous business arrangements. But this one stands. If you satisfy your end of the bargain, I'll do the same. I'll be waiting right here, waiting for you to reclaim what was stolen from you a long time ago.

.

Liselle was initially unsure whether to react with anger or misplaced appreciation. Despite Wasea ostentatiously acting with self-interest at the very top of her motivations list, the maiden sensed a nagging presence of dialogue about the overall welfare of Omega. No matter how hard Liselle tried to discount every word composing the letter, there were various grains of truth and points with which she sympathized scattered throughout it, drawing her attention again and again each time she grew embittered and looked away.

One thing Wasea had in common with the rest of Liselle's caretakers while growing up—as disturbing as it was to recognize any commonalities at all—was being convinced that Aria would eventually integrate her daughter into the higher ranks of her regime. It was not very outlandish to imagine, after all. How could Aria accept the horrible fate of bearing offspring who failed to join her at the top of the Terminus Space food chain? Liselle would not be misguided to anticipate being dragged to glory whether she sanctioned the trip or not, be it by years of intense reform or by other modes of effective conditioning if Aria found her struggling to hang onto the shelf of proficiency. Once there—after being prodded up onto that lofty tier where she supposedly belonged by decree of blood—she would become a major resource whose actions might very well influence the fates of entities on Omega, such as the Eclipse.

And she too agreed with another of Wasea's opinions. If Liselle rose to the heights of Aria's syndicate one day, wouldn't she have liked to know of hidden things? For Aria to have hidden something at all, and to have hidden it from Liselle _in specific,_ practically screamed its relevancy.

Wasea had claimed that she was not trying to incite revolt inside Liselle's heart, but she wasn't buying it. Not by a long shot. The deal she was proposing served as the first tremor of a seismic event—a possible upheaval of tremendous proportions, waiting to deeply and irreparably inflict its damages on the sole, previously-inaccessible point of weakness in Aria's syndicate: Aria herself.

But with that said, did Liselle's love for Aria grant her immunity? Instant forgiveness for all her transgressions, like the baffling and often infuriating refusal to talk about the most fundamental details of Liselle's existence? If such answers were worth fiercely guarding in the first place, then they were ominously weighted by something of terrible consequence... A conclusion Wasea had also made earlier that day.

Liselle refused to accept the comforts of ignorance, yet she couldn't fathom doing anything that could result in harm coming to Aria or the rest of her unconventional family.

But what was one bottle of wine from Aria's cabinets when held up to all that might be, to all that had passed into sealed vaults of time and memory?

Liselle's hands had involuntarily clenched into fists upon her thighs as she continued to watch the broadcast, letting the dark outlines of masked individuals with green nodules on their armor suits reach her wide blue eyes and fail to seize her preoccupied brain for comprehension. Her fists were perceptibly trembling, but like the images flickering in front of her face, they too were lost in the teeming labyrinth of a restless mind.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Aria quickly heard back from Lieutenant Renaga, who dutifully accepted her boss's orders and assured her that the operation was already underway. As a result, a celebratory mood settled over the two asari in the councilor's apartment. It lifted their spirits, sending urges to smile and boast coursing through their bodies. It was the ancient empowerment felt by all leaders since the beginning of time, felt whenever one would execute a particularly ingenious move before reaping the subsequent rewards from where they sat contently fixed upon their throne.

When Aria returned to Tevos's bedroom to retrieve her C-Sec armor shell, the councilor followed and continued to speak on a topic they had wandered into just minutes previously.

"And although I promised the turian councilor I would meet with him early in the morning, I'm afraid four hours of sleep might not suffice... So, a dilemma: to neglect my health but prove to be both reliable and punctual, or to decently emerge from the night with the majority of my wits present but sacrificing the credibility of my word?"

Aria sat down in the chair by the window again where she swiftly pulled on the first boot, then the other, and began fastening them on securely. "Why not postpone?" she listlessly suggested with her nose still pointing in the direction of the floor.

Tevos folded her arms in thought, staring off at the short geometric posts of her bed. "It was of _some_ urgency... We were planning on discussing the climate of that fabricated scandal. The one that magnified the minuscule connection between our families, if you recall. We took some measures to counteract it, and it seems to be going well. I would like to be updated on what he's seen and heard lately. One fortunate quality of popular culture is that stories are very ephemeral. Ours is already starting to fade from the minds and mouths of the press, so we've been _very_ careful to not provide anything more with the potential to be used to boost the story back into the spotlight. The whole business of speculative gossip is a vicious machine. It's barbaric, to flay Estulius alive before he even moved into his office. Truly, to exist as a politician has proven to be an exhausting style of life indeed..."

From where she stood in the dim center of her room, Tevos saw a wicked smirk appearing on Aria lips. If she had not been examining her with intense care, the Aria's clamping on portions of leg armor would've obscured the expression within the ever-shifting shadows painted across her face. When Aria rose from the chair, she passed by Tevos to retrieve her wrist-guards from the neatly-arranged deposit of armor placed at the foot of the councilor's bed. "Right. Because politicians are just the absolute _pariahs_ of society." Her grin was slowly emerging from its infantile stages. But when she saw that Tevos was serious, it collapsed into bemusement. "So you're on his side? You actually believe he's innocent?"

Tevos canted her head and adamantly declared, "Yes, I do think that."

The response she elicited from the crime lord was repressed laughter.

"And why is that so funny to you?"

Aria's cold laughter died down into small breaths of amusement. "If I were lying on my death bed and given a few minutes to broadcast a final message to my station," she said, blue eyes alight with opposition, "the last words I'd ever utter in this universe would be this: _Whenever you hear a politician speak, assume they are lying to you."_

Tevos raised her brow. "And I'd assume that advice was what made Omega into the haven it's known as today? A place where people have abolished the creeping whispers of _class warfare_ and happily dove straight into the midst of indiscriminate, _real_ warfare instead?"

From where Aria stood but a pace away, she visibly and assuredly mouthed the word _liars._ As she did, the corners of her lips had begun to curl back into a venomous smile.

Tevos found herself returning the look. "If what you say is true, allow me to ask you this question: Do I compulsively lie to you, Aria?"

The wrist-guards remained inert in Aria's hand, momentarily forgotten. She had diverted her attention elsewhere, to the wide open opportunity of addressing the councilor's question in ways that could possibly mangle her fighting spirits in one blow. Curiously, she let the opportunity pass. "Even if you're an exception," she alternatively said, "you're still not the rule."

A noticeable period of silence existed between them. Aria averted her gaze downward to Tevos's hands, which had left her sides to rise up, removed one of the wrist-guards from Aria's grasp, and began fastening it to the other asari's forearm.

"If you find the author of the post," Tevos said, still focused on the piece of armor, "I'd like you to tell me. You can do what you like with them, but I want to be informed of it." She lifted her eyes to meet Aria's. While seeking her agreement she released her forearm—now protected by the hard blue shell diligently assumed with the councilor's help.

Aria frowned, not in malice, but in careful thought. At last she gave an unenthusiastic concession, "I'll let you know."

"Thank you," Tevos said, very much pleased with her answer. She expressed her gratitude by reaching out to perform the same favor for Aria's other arm, all the while fascinated at how passive she stayed when being touched and having her attire amended.

_She probably likes the attention,_ Tevos thought with a private smile. _Although I still doubt she would let many people dress her._

Her idle speculation led her astray and into a heightened awareness of the person before her. No longer was she thinking about dressing Aria, but boldly entertaining notions of the opposite, subtractive effort. Whether Aria would permit her fingers to seek the releases of armor cloisters instead of locking them in place. To what extent would she willingly accommodate an invasion of captivated hands? At what point would she seize wrists and cast her cold, warning glare at their owner? And how much pleasure would she take in being intimately examined by a wandering, luxurious touch? Would she enjoy it at all? With a wistful exhale, Tevos's hands drifted down Aria's forearm and came to a stop when one arrived at her wrist, and she extended the fingers of her other hand beneath Aria's to support the position.

She found Aria giving her a highly expectant look when her eyes lifted to meet hers, possibly expecting an explanation of their lasting physical contact, or why Tevos had issued that longing breath, or even in anticipation of the councilor making another move, whatever it may be. Perhaps it was all three. Perhaps Aria already had all the answers and only sought their confirmation. Like all things with Aria, there was no way to know with certainty.

Regardless, Tevos had never been fond of that look. Each time Aria pierced her with it she felt as though every bit of her was being evaluated at once, simplifying her and leaving nothing to mystery.

"What awaits you on Omega tonight?" Tevos asked, dropping her gaze and pretending to be suddenly interested with the hem of the black sleeve tautly clinging to Aria's wrist. "A peaceful rest while your next target is found for you? Or will you personally lead the search?"

"Well I'm sure any attempt to sleep will be interrupted when something goes wrong," Aria trenchantly replied. Though, she smiled briefly. "There's always a mess for me to clean and if there isn't I can count on another appearing within the hour."

The councilor lifted her chin again, focusing on the wry quirk held by Aria's lips and soon afterward, the curious vigor in the hand and wrist she still kept. And Aria still remained unnervingly expectant of something.

Tevos would not acknowledge it, but she had felt the same abiding throughout the entire night; standing by quietly for the arrival of some unavoidable event over which she believed she had no real agency. Her residual patience crested, fell, and the very instant she drew close and pressed her lips to Aria's there followed an abrupt articulation of hands, rising and roaming over stretches of clothing and each other, searching for a steady resting place while comprehending the delirium of sudden contact. There was familiarity. There was the confidence of Aria's lips that had haunted Tevos like a reoccurring dream. There was the destruction of a personal principle thought to have been written in stone, a theory defeated by praxis.

While Tevos's hands had found comfort at the curve of Aria's jaw, fingers extending beyond and against her neck, Aria's had settled on her waist before ambitiously sinking down to her hips. Pressure was applied, a guidance backward to which Tevos yielded a single step—and she felt the edge of her bed touch the backs of her legs. As though she were languishing within a haze of magnified senses and reduced sensibility, soon the sheets were gently creasing beneath her as Aria pursued, bowed her head, and delivered to Tevos's mouth a series of full and lascivious kisses, heavy with desire. During a pause taken for a breath, Tevos tilted her head at a more accommodating angle, still holding Aria's face as she accepted every caress and returned them.

It wasn't what she remembered, therefore expected, from Aria. There was a pleasant absence of teeth once associated with the simple goal of conquering, replaced by a satisfying indolence that made Tevos feel as if along with her breath, tiny pieces of her vitality were being stolen away with each kiss Aria drank from her lips. Very few times in her life had she been kissed like this before, with such sensuality, depth, and attention. Something in Aria had changed wherein assertion had become the now-obsolete predecessor of mastery, a product of time spent seeing and understanding the individual of her interest until her preferences were skillfully deduced.

Tevos noticed this, and fear cruelly bit at her heart. She stopped them and held Aria's face at bay, with thumbs tentatively at her cheekbones.

"What's the problem, Councilor?" Aria's low question reached her.

Tevos hesitated before answering, "You know what my problem is."

"You're scared someone will find out? Honestly, I wouldn't be concerned. Now what I _actually_ might've been concerned about, if I were you, is inviting me here to conspire things with you that could have you thrown out of office within days if they ever came to light. Now _that_ might be worth worrying about."

Aria received no response.

"You don't strike me as irrational," she said to the councilor, hands drifting up from her waist to gently rest her palms against the top of her chest, letting her fingers curl and grasp her shoulders. "So I doubt that's still your primary reservation."

"My reservations are your _motivations_ ," Tevos confessed at last while releasing Aria's face to grip her armor-plated wrists. She was wary of the placement of her hands. "There is no plausible incentive for you to partake in... this... other than for capitalistic reasons."

After a glance sent away, bringing back a nearly undetectable and ironic smile to Aria's lips, she mused aloud, "One of the most irritating experiences in life, I've found, is the fact that most people you meet will feel entitled to detailed explanations for everything you do."

"And with good reason," Tevos argued. "It comforts people, knowing that your behavior is a result of well-developed rationale and not capricious whims."

"Then you first," said Aria. "Tell me, what's _your_ well-developed rationale for this?"

Again, Tevos was silent.

Aria released her, instead pressing her hands into the bed on either sides of Tevos's chest and leaned in close, quietly and sultrily speaking against her lips, "Let me know." She kissed her once, lingering there for quite a while before pulling away. She made no other move, waiting for Tevos's response to her offer.

Arms were raised and folded around Aria's neck. All became still again, allowing Tevos to spend a few moments issuing Aria an agreeable, yet vaguely cautionary gaze. Through it she informed Aria of her intense awareness, of her nonexistent tolerance for any possible plans to manipulate her through forms of physical attachment. A mere attempt would cause her to terminate the whole arrangement swiftly and completely, she told Aria with her stare, who communicated her acknowledgement when amusement broke out on her face. It raised the question of _why_ Aria found Tevos's lasting misgivings humorous, but it was left unanswered as she pulled them together once again.

Through the long strain of open-mouthed kisses punctuated by shorter, shallower ones, their hands reanimated and roamed over folds of clothing. Tevos's washed over Aria's shoulders and the back of her neck, studying the form beneath the thin black layer of material. She could feel Aria's touch on her chest, opening the robe once kept modestly shut while fingers worked at the buttons of her nightshirt, hastily pushing them back through their loops. Cool air met her bare flesh as her attire was pulled open, soon replaced by the warmth of greedy hands gathering up as much skin as they could contain at once. In reciprocation, Tevos searched the back of the undersuit's neck for its zipper. When she located it, a few tugs and Aria's cooperation had the suit peeling away from her shoulders, descending her chest, and the sleeves catching at the wrist guards until Aria unfastened them and dropped them away.

Using the leverage her arms had secured around the pair of shoulders, Tevos pulled herself up and Aria allowed her, rising into an upright position where she disconnected her lips from Aria's and trailed them along her jaw. She found her neck and ardently kissed her there, listening to and feeling the rhythm of Aria's breath as the other asari's deft hands drifted about her chest, passing over her breasts and routinely grasping them into brief but complacent holds.

There was no amount coherence left—nothing within their fervent struggle to affirm certain lusts and torments through the language of flesh and blood—that could ever release Tevos's mind from all her reveries about _touching_ Aria. As her lips feathered along her throat, sometimes pressing firmly into her skin there, and as her fingertips swept over her back and arms while helping Aria shrug out of the suit until her upper body was completely bared, Tevos became convinced that she would contribute to the situation an extent of prerogative only entertained in the wildest dreams of Aria's most enraptured admirers. She filled her nose and lungs with the scent of her perfume and satiated her hands with the examination of muscle and bone, letting her longings spread over Aria's body so that she would know of them. Promises were written upon her skin. Samples of her intentions, manifesting in a touch whose level of fascination teased the boundaries of reverence. At its height, Tevos's thumbs slipped into the suit still clinging to Aria's hips and she urged it downward, only stopping to gauge her reaction and hopefully, approval.

Aria bit into Tevos's neck, delighting in the sharp breath it elicited. "Is that what you think about when you look at me?" she asked against the side of her head in a tone alluring enough to temporarily steal away Tevos's ability to breathe.

A disapproving exhale departed Tevos. "One more word and I might stop wanting to."

Aria's hands fell from Tevos's body as she gave a faint smile in appreciation of her audacity and resolve. "All right _Councilor_ ," she said, emphasizing her title to taunt her. "Show what you have to offer." She drew back to face her, wordlessly conveying a degree of intrigue that nearly made Tevos abandon the idea altogether.

When she had built her nerve back up, Tevos carefully applied her hands to Aria's stomach, appraising all the heat and strength residing there. The fever that had initially erupted between them had faded somewhat, leaving Aria observant and Tevos patient; wishing to extract as much dilatory exploration and familiarization from the opportunity as she could. And she did just that—slowly migrating her touch higher, passing over modest contours of muscle, lingering in the curves framing Aria's midriff, and bravely resting on breasts that were, like the rest of Aria, a bit fuller than Tevos's features governed by a slighter physique. She learned of her, absently wondering if in the case she was able to sear into her mind every bend, every occasional protrusion of bone, and every ghost of a scar, would she, now carrying in the deepest confines of her skull a photograph of Aria in nothing but the athleticism she had honed for herself, immortalize her through memory alone?

She brought her hands down, letting her fingers slip into the hem of the undersuit and lay their lengths along the crests pelvic bone created, soon wandering into their slight valleys leading to the juncture of her thighs. Overwhelming apprehension had begun to creep into Tevos, and the way she found Aria looking at her when she glanced upward did nothing to help her affliction. But instead of tearing her eyes away in reflexive abashment, as Aria or even herself would have expected her to do, Tevos placed a kiss to the corner of her mouth in an effort to erase the vanity from her face, if purely through diversion. To her chagrin, it only brought more rushing to the surface.

The suit was tugged further down, freeing Aria's hips from its sheath. Black material was gathering at her thighs in pools, its progression hindered there by the positioning of her legs—kept parted with her knees firmly pressed into the bed for support. When at last faced with her inevitable performance, Tevos pressed her lips to Aria's chest one last time, taking that moment to quell the lasting awe clouding her thoughts while resting her chin on her shoulder. She permitted her hands to lavish over her hips for a time, stalling there in the guise of courteously helping Aria's mood along until her courage and desire had mounted enough to send them downward, to a location that drew an anticipatory breath from Aria.

Before she could even decide what to do next, Aria had fitted her hands over Tevos's to guide her through the ignorance of a body she had never before presided over. It was done in condescending distrust, essentially, but Tevos gave no intelligible complaint. Aria's digits progressed to mirror the ones beneath, with fingertips placed upon knuckles to accurately influence their movements; and when that preparation had been completed, Tevos felt her fingers being delicately urged into the positions that would bring Aria the most pleasure. Taken by thought-compromising astonishment, Tevos could only comply by relaxing her hand and conforming to whatever state it was poised in until Aria was satisfied with its placement. And even as she felt her face burn relentlessly at where her digits now lied, willingly held within the place where keen actions had a sliver of potential to bring Aria to conditions of decidedly surreal natures, Tevos found it necessary to acknowledge Aria's authority over their entire engagement. She was controlling each action Tevos was allowed to take, and managing just how it would be carried out with utmost precision. There was no superfluous trust. There was only Aria T'Loak, vastly interested in discerning whether this form of contact with the asari councilor lived up to basic expectations.

With her first hand placed, the second was taken up and tacitly assigned to a complimentary and essential part of Aria's anatomy. When its positioning also suited her desires, Tevos felt Aria move her hips, just once at first, allowing herself a pause to make a minuscule adjustment to the fingers within her before she moved again, and this time it was evidently to her liking. She continued to use Tevos's hands in that manner, becoming accustomed to all the various qualities of an unfamiliar touch as Tevos was educated on exactly what motions to perform, and how to perform them well. While straddling the brink of dizziness Tevos monitored Aria's breathing—a once-calm, warm stream meeting her shoulder steadily every second or so now become heavier and significantly less composed. Her growing arousal was contagious, occasionally sending tiny provocative surges of enjoyment down Tevos's spine.

Eventually, Tevos was released to persist unaided. She mimicked what she'd been taught and autonomously continued, stroking and massaging her way deeper into the warm velvet to which she had been given access, breath stolen by the way her incursions were welcomed and savored and encouraged further. She burned from the incredible intimacy of the act, enthused and entirely committed to the notion of bringing Aria a satisfactory end.

Her confidence grew. While she pleased her, Tevos felt Aria's hands wandering her back, delving into the disheveled clothing still clinging to her body and seeking purchase there. Aria was a vessel of conceit and certainty, sensually raking her fingernails down Tevos's back in exotically meandering trails as if describing paths taken by rivers of pleasure traveling through her body. The paths swept and coiled into the small of her back, marking her in an opulent language whose lines of text might remain there until the next day. And Tevos listened, translated, and replied with the tenderest strokes she could manage.

If she meant to soothe Aria's clawing her efforts only inspired the opposite effect, and so Tevos ultimately resolved by telling Aria in a clear and explicit whisper, to be less brutal with her expressions of approval. And to that Aria actually released a single breathless sigh of laughter, which instantly engendered an entirely unfathomable and almost _jovial_ appeal about their circumstance; a temporary sense of strange delight in the outlandishness of what had become of them after all these years and troubles. The warmth radiating from Aria's shoulder was now indistinguishable from that of Tevos's cheek resting against it. There was startlingly little awareness of where they each ended and began.

With every forward roll of her hips Tevos heard Aria's breathing grow increasingly labored, though imbued with no sound other than that of expelled air. As much as Tevos doted on notions of the contrary coming true, Aria was as fierce and proud as she was when _not_ fixated on achieving gratification, and would not grant her that wish. She still would dig her fingernails into Tevos's lower back whenever her pace or the angling of her fingers deviated too far from their pre-established instructions, and Tevos, after a deliberate period of defiance which still seemed to arouse Aria nevertheless, would soon again adhere to her preferences. But Tevos found that certain deviations went gracefully unpunished, particularly when she discovered that curling her fingers slightly—a move originally meant as a teasing counterbalance against Aria's ruthlessly persistent nails—sent her hips rolling forward accompanied with a quick, shaken exhale.

It was easily one of the most beautiful things Tevos had ever witnessed her do.

She repeated it shortly after, selfishly eliciting a similar albeit less surprised reaction. By the time of that instance, Tevos had recognized just how close Aria was, told by the urgency of her hips, the distress of her breathing, and how firmly she would press forward and confine Tevos's hands between their bodies. Not a few seconds later and Aria had arrived there, using her biting nails again as anchors as a strain of shallow breaths departed her. Tevos was intoxicated by it all—the feeling of being so desired in those ephemeral moments, told by the way Aria's fingernails relented only to grip Tevos's wrists and hold them as they were, precisely where she wanted them, and for as long as she wanted them until she had spent herself to contentment.

After releasing Tevos, the councilor was temporarily forgotten. Aria settled down easily, calmed her breathing, and kept her eyes closed as she luxuriated in the results good judgement had brought her. Her fingers slowly curled around small handfuls of sheets, channeling the pleasure still fading from her body. " _Oh,_ I really needed that..." she mused aloud, her words melting away into a satisfied hum.

Tevos's watching of Aria remained uninterrupted. She watched the small heavings of her chest disappear into gentler expansions and collapses, and she glanced down at the pair of hands recently returned to her custody. Glistening around her knuckles was evidence of once being tenderly and boldly fitted inside Aria, touching, caressing, pleasuring her to her profound liking, and the slight ache of pain from being locked in one position helped in reasserting the reality of what she had just done. And alike many other issues, she over-analyzed it. She cracked it open, sifting through the blatant clues alluding to the fact that she was _not_ dreaming while searching for a recognizable inconsistency suggesting otherwise.

Had this truly happened, she wondered? Was Aria's stay on the Citadel really not yet over, rather placing her now before Tevos, on her bed, eyes still veiled by a curtain of lust and her bare flesh still basking in the afterglow of a night spent on self-indulgence? And what of herself? How could Tevos ever explain the uneasiness in her own skin and the insisting throb between her legs, responding to the culmination of many minutes observing and feeling Aria—a woman of such power and terrible magnificence—receiving gratification from her touch alone? Again, it was almost... absurd, despite that Aria had directed the majority of the act herself.

She meant to look away when Aria opened her eyes again and immediately met her stare, but Tevos was compelled to return it. Aria drew in again, comfortably informing the councilor against her lips, "You know I always repay my debts."

Tevos blinked, pretending to be unfazed by the offer. She glanced down at how closely Aria's lips hovered near hers, lifted her eyes again, and replied, "It is _very_ late."

"I don't know what you're talking about. The night is young."

She disdainfully, but benignly, draped her arms around Aria's shoulders only to abuse her access by pinching her there, and she was surprised by her own audacity and what seemed to be an emerging inclination to _flirt_ with her. Truly, Aria had always brought out sides of Tevos that she had forgotten she was even in possession of. When so rudely pinched for being vexatious, however, the other asari firmly pressed her thumbs into the sides of Tevos's pelvis, just hard enough to make her brow furrow in discomfort while Aria asserted an immutable principle: she was a force of nature that, when acted upon, was able and willing to deliver reactions in equal or greater proportion.


	15. Mercy in Afterlife

Liselle had originally contacted Zuria that night, hoping to schedule another card game for when they both found their brief spells of free time coinciding. Zuria had happily agreed, but additional notifications lurking in the background of the seemingly innocuous conversation had set in motion events far more dire than a mere game where societal and war-pertinent roles were represented on the faces of harmless cards. Suddenly their game was utterly eclipsed by reality.

Zuria had offhandedly mentioned that tonight Aria was absent from her usual seat overlooking the ordered mayhem of Afterlife. Liselle's reaction to the information had been a powerful and unstoppable impulse that seized hold of her immediately, and she remained captive to it for the rest of the night. She prevented all reason and fear from tainting her brave plans even as she stood before the nightclub and its holographic pillars glowing with the effigies of decadent treats. Like a fortress it loomed, and like a den it welcomed—radiating light from the fire it breathed and spreading shadows from the momentous space it occupied, onto all denizens traveling in its wake.

Liselle was bathed in oozing mauves and bellicose reds as she strolled up the crowded street and to Afterlife's entrance, completely bypassing the lines by invoking the special authorizations Aria had granted her teams. Once inside the burning atrium her determination had her briskly navigating the shoals of bodies without excess paranoia. There was no Queen scanning the crowds cluttering her domicile's floor tonight, whose penetrating gaze would expose the acts of mild subversion Liselle was about to commit if Aria had been present to cast it.

_Just this once and and never again,_ she firmly reminded herself while winding and dodging around surges of traffic as the club around her pulsed with instrumental anthems of defiance. The subtleties in the world around her—voices, footsteps, her own breathing—were lost and muted by the dominating music, reducing all to mere twitches in the soundscape.

She sought out the less populated avenues between masses of patrons, heading in the direction of an elevator accessible only to Aria's employees. It was likely to be a far more fortuitous strategy than braving the corridors and stairs where guards roamed at every hour, tasked with the precious duty of preventing individuals like Liselle from infiltrating restricted areas. Though Liselle was not explicitly familiar with the degree of access Aria had granted her, there still lied a considerable chance that the private elevator would exist within those ambiguous parameters. For if Liselle was ever pressed for time when seeking shelter, why deny her the most direct route?

Heavily relying on that logic Liselle went on, casting a furtive glance upward at the dancers above as they changed shifts. One disappeared along the raised catwalk leading to the top floor—exactly where Liselle was headed—as another soon replaced her.

The girl squeezed through another group of people, now surveying the guards present in various shadowy alcoves who perpetually awaited the very first sign of trouble. A lone turian was posted beside the elevator; a woman with myriad stories of violence seared into her face's carapace and a high-grade assault rifle cradled in her arms.

Liselle held her breath, accepting that the only viable path to her destination would lead her within the sights of this guard. Sights far less scrutinizing and deadly as Aria's, however, so the chance was ultimately worth taking.

When she drew near, Liselle pretended not to pay attention to the turian—hiding the fearful fixation she had upon her in reality by holding her head up with all the pride and self-confidence she could muster, as to seem as though there were no other place where she belonged more. Though the turian found her extremely dubious and held her beneath an intense stare as Liselle accessed the elevator, she made no move against her once the maiden was granted entry without any perceivable issue.

When the doors shut Liselle released a painfully-held breath of relief, consciously acknowledging her small success to keep her morale healthy while turning to the control panel. There glowing in the touch-activated interface lied three options, each differentiated by highlighted regions of a map depicting Afterlife, with uppermost selection declaring itself as highly restricted using a bombardment of intimidating, deep red lettering. She pressed a tentatively lifted finger to the forbidden area and the text flashed green in acceptance of her ID. But before the elevator began to rise, a new screen flicked on the panel as the previous one containing the available floor levels faded from sight. Its new cryptic words, displayed in a font that resembled an error screen more than anything else, had initially alarmed and confused Liselle. When she carefully read it, her reflexive panic diminished and reincarnated into in a great ray of emptiness and dread burrowing its way into her chest.

The screen had presented Liselle a question with just two answers to choose from, but the simplicity of choice was forgotten when held against all the billowing dismay twisting Liselle's stomach into knots.

_Wipe all access logs for this ID and cancel future entries?_ its pale text read, leading Liselle to a single explanation for its existence: Aria had programmed an option into the elevator, and likely every other checkpoint within Afterlife which kept an automatic log of when and to whom access was granted, that offered to cleanse all evidence of Liselle's presence from the database.

The girl was moved. She was plagued by surprise and biting self-reprimand for nearly giving herself away by forgetting to account for access logs when spontaneously devising her plan earlier that day. She was acutely distraught for those long seconds spent making her decision, applying a hand to her forehead as she stared at the panel with deathly concerned blue eyes.

Liselle did not fear her mother's wrath. She rarely did. But she still dreaded being seared by Aria's words; bolts of agony disguised as harmless expressions of parental disappointment. Whether their sting was purposefully or unwittingly invented by Aria before deliverance remained one the great mysteries of life, but it was all the same in the end. Even now, without a single word uttered by her mother, Liselle was already feeling the corrosive anxiety that accompanied an act of terrible betrayal.

Where fear did not touch her as it touched the majority of Aria's relationships, guilt still shot true and cleanly impaled her, clove her, wounded her immensely.

Aria had sacrificed her own knowledge of Liselle's whereabouts for the sole purpose of increasing her odds of survival if mortal peril was ever upon her daughter's heels, even having accounted for the nightmarish scenario in which the technologic networks running through Aria's syndicate like a system of veins had been compromised. Aria had evidently not done so out of trust or confidence in Liselle that she would not abuse the privilege if she came upon it—no, Liselle was still very much Aria's daughter in that respect, with the two both known for squeezing every drop of usefulness out of what resources lied within reach—but Aria had done so out of pure necessity, out of the untainted prioritization of holding Liselle's life above her own sense of absolute control and security, out of _love_.

_I love you,_ Liselle thought of her mother while her sense of fault drooped and sagged. _And I know you love me as well. But sometimes... that just isn't enough. It's not an excuse for everything._

With an adamant glare bursting its way into her features, Liselle decisively pressed her finger to the interface and authorized the complete deletion of her access logs, denying herself a single moment longer to prevent reconsideration. Her command was verified and executed, allowing the elevator to begin smoothly and silently ascend to the forbidden peaks of Afterlife. She stood in the metal box's dead center, afraid to touch anything more than what she absolutely needed to, as if Aria might simply _know_ if the chemistry of the very air, or the texture of the polished metallic walls indented with shallow designs, had been disturbed by irregular visitors.

Liselle was eager to escape the confines of the elevator. She wished nothing more than to leave it behind along with the reminder relentlessly imposed upon her: it being a horrendously gaping, exploitable flaw in Aria's defenses. The reason why Liselle was so guarded. The reason why Wasea had so quickly pivoted from ridiculing her from the first moment of recognition, to laying out heaps of information and offering her further knowledge. She had realized Liselle's worth, her functionality as the single master key to the core of Aria's syndicate.

The doors finally slid back into the slots in the walls, releasing the girl into a vacant maroon-tinted hall free from the clamor of the entertainment caldera somewhere beneath her feet. Lights fitted and spaced along the junctions of wall and floor illuminated her moving legs as she beetled down the corridor in the direction of Aria's personal quarters, comforted to know that the distance between there and her position would be short. From the rough map she had examined in the elevator, the summit of Afterlife was small compared to the rest of its body and only comprised two other rooms at her slightly lower elevation whose purposes and occupants were unknown to her. She soon passed their closed doors, wondering if one was perhaps a briefing room for Aria's administration.

Liselle had only afforded herself a few moments of speculation before an armored mass rounded the sharply-curving bend some meters ahead, emerging in the form of a krogan guard who made Liselle nearly jump and flee in fright. A single twitch in her calves was all she conceded to, and when the jolt passed Liselle willed her legs forward. The only thing worse than confronting one of Aria's mercenaries, she believed, was triggering the ancient hunting instincts they had once again embraced for the sake of their jobs. But she shakily wondered—as the nearing guard's eyes locked onto her with unwavering suspicion—if the final results of inspiring a chase versus talking her way through a confrontation would differ all that much.

As the distance between her and the mountainous guard closed, Liselle found it increasingly difficult to breathe. With every taken step she ventured further into the category of blatant trespassing, and in the region of Afterlife deemed most sacred to Aria, her misplacement had begun to border on _insulting_. In a flash of imagination, she pictured herself being smashed into the cold metal floor by the guard's massive fist, her broken body dragged off to await judgment in a detainment cell crammed with other perpetrators of awful misconduct, then eventually facing the worst punishment of all—her mother. She almost lurched.

When they crossed paths, she was immediately ordered by the man now staunchly barricading the corridor, "Stop right there. Now I'm going straight to the point here—if you don't show me some ID and proper authorization, you and my shotgun are going to get better acquainted." He drew his weapon in preparation to keep his promise, and leveled its barrel at Liselle.

She froze, staring at his war-torn features and failing to produce even the smallest of sounds.

"Well, let's see it!" he ordered, jabbing the gun into Liselle's stomach once to hurry her along.

Liselle jumped back a half-step away in natural fear, counting herself extremely lucky that the leering krogan didn't shoot her on the spot when she did. The look she was giving him was a blend of illness and terror, and their hybrid had begun to resemble a strange aspect of contempt. It was initially unintentional, as Liselle was far closer to fainting or vomiting than she was to furiously grappling the guard for threatening her, but something in his knowing sneer, something about the way he loomed, roused something within the maiden. It snapped something brittle and old; a reserve of tolerance that had unhealthily bloated with every adverse incident throughout her short life until it had begun to crack the walls of its containment and collapse.

It was _exhaustion_. It was the pure hatred for a battle against obscurity and ineptitude that she had been losing for _years_ , always surrendering to forces that erased, hid, or used her for the lack of any other purpose she was capable of fulfilling on her own volition. It was an anger she had never felt before, frothing up and boiling over from where it was first spawned deep within her core decades ago—an origin that was not unlikely to have to coincided with the articulation of her very genes.

It was the defiance of all that dared to keep her confined.

"This is the second time today I've had to explain myself," she said, quickly formulating a brave bluff in her head. "Don't you know about all the ongoing investigations Aria's having done? Is there some sort of... lack of communication? Honestly, at this rate I'm never going to complete my mission."

The guard was puzzled by her claim, but did not grant her any leniency. "Spew whatever nonsense you think will help your case, but you're not going anywhere without some ID. Those are my orders and if you don't like them, you become a fucking stain on the wall!"

"You want ID?" Liselle said, bringing up her omni-tool and bringing up her personal file complete with her pseudonym and authorization codes. She held it up to the krogan's face just long enough for him to comprehend the data and deem it legitimate. "There's your damn ID! And you know what—this has gotten out of hand. I'm on a time budget and I can't work when I'm being stopped and asked for identification all the time. I need to make a report of this. Either you guys aren't paying attention to your memos or there's a technical problem, but it just can't go on like this." She opened up a blank document and began keying in a message, feeling relieved when the guard finally lowered his firearm.

"A report?" the krogan inquired. "To who?"

"Aria, of course," she replied without looking away from her fake message. "She needs to know why her special agents aren't getting their jobs done in a timely manner. What's your name?"

"My name?" he echoed in confusion.

"Yes! _My_ orders are to give detailed reports of what's happening and you've made yourself a part of them. So now—it's time for me to see _your_ ID."

"Whoah, whoah, whoah," he said, moving ever so slightly forward in an effort to see what the girl was typing. "Were you really delayed that much? I mean… is it really necessary to put my name in there?"

She stopped, faced him, and silently reveled in her ability to use her mother as a threat that left even the largest and experienced mercenaries practically quaking in their boots. Liselle feigned a few moments of patient thoughtfulness before speaking again, "It generally is necessary. It's my job. But… I _guess_ this isn't a big enough to deal to report. Tell you what—maybe it would make everyone's day easier if we just pretended this never happened?"

He nodded in agreement, immediately stepping aside for her passage. "Sure, yeah. Go on ahead." When she closed the messaging client and began to leave, he called after her with lasting concern, "Not a word to Aria, right?"

"Not a word," she confirmed over her shoulder, and as she turned back to face the path before her, a huge smile occupied her face. As soon as he was out of sight, Liselle was nearly overwhelmed by the urge to jump in excitement and slam her fist against the wall in an expression of hot-blooded victory. She contained the impulse and celebrated in silence, instead counting all the bonuses she had acquired in addition to escaping; if the guard had been stupid enough to buy her story, Liselle thought, then he was also probably stupid enough (and self-preserving enough) to not tell _anyone_ about what had happened, as well as not remembering the name she had flashed him on her ID for a mere two seconds.

It wasn't long before Liselle came upon the lonely door at the curving crest of the hall encircling the club's heights. A few steps were lain before it, which Liselle tentatively took while her eyes fixated themselves on the red hologram hovering over the door's center. It sat in serene dormancy. The dark panel mounted in the wall beside the door eerily flashed a small crimson light in the upper left corner of its interface every few seconds, patiently beseeching its master's touch.

Liselle intruded upon the sanctified space by applying her hand to the panel, and like the elevator before it, the red lights switched to green and she heard the familiar quick hiss and muffled sound of disengaging mechanisms before the doors parted for her entry. For a moment she stood frozen in place. Hesitation bolted her feet to the floor. Eventually she gathered the nerve to move forward, coming into the first area of a multi-chambered living space where a seating arrangement's lavish red cushions with black and gold embroidery were complemented by potted plants of exotic origin, and the magnificently ornate designs of the floor rugs created an assuaging bridge between the contrasts of cold metal and accents of comfort. She ventured further, immersing herself in the heart of Aria's territory that was deemed as such by the group of hibernating monitors and a communication console in one corner of the room, and in the other far corner there sat a large bed whose sheets were so impeccably made-up that Liselle did not even hazard an approach for fear that she would fumble the endeavor and leave damning creases for her mother to find. She peered around, absorbing the layout with intrigue. It carried the marks of someone who unquestionably owned the space and often resided within it, but there was a certain lack of personalization that Liselle paradoxically found as curious as she did unsurprising. All it was, it seemed, was a place where Aria felt she could safely sleep within. Every item's purpose was for leisure, convenience, or glamour; thus excluding anything superfluously eccentric such as personal keepsakes and spots of untidiness.

It was regularly occupied, but not _lived_ in. From what Liselle had gathered over the years, Aria was just as material as she was immaterial. While only quality possessions and consumables held her interest, she had simply never been overtly sentimental. She did have favorite things; favorite chairs, favorite drinking glasses, favorite boots—but in essence, they still remained her trophies. Symbols of success, and nothing more.

The same could even be said about Liselle's target: the bottle of wine safely tucked in a small cabinet stationed near the alcove where Aria hung spare clothes (as Liselle saw when she peered into the recess). When she had reached the low-standing wooden cabinet with its contents being alluded to by several empty glasses and a decanter resting atop, Liselle knelt and cautiously rotated the classical lock out of place and pulled the door open. She grasped the first bottle she saw by its neck, retrieving it from the cool darkness to inspect its label in the provided light. She heard the other bottles gently roll in to fill the created vacant spot on the shared rack. Though the individual in hand bore golden seals and the name of a Thessian vineyard whose reputation was so pervasive that even Liselle knew it well, it was not the vessel Wasea sought.

As she continued her process of removing and examining each bottle, Liselle began to ponder quite belatedly, _How did Wasea even know what to send me to get? She must have been here before. Saw it for herself and remembered it. But why would she have been here anyway? Bribing, plotting, fist-fighting...?_

With the correct prize in hand, Liselle straightened her legs and rose from her crouch. With a mountain of luck, perhaps when Aria finally discovered her wine was missing she would not think too much of it due to absolutely nothing else in her penthouse showing signs of disturbance. _Years_ could pass before she realized its absence. A fault in memory could be blamed for not recalling some night out of the endless tides of time when Aria could have opened it in the company of close affiliates. Liselle invested in optimism as she slid the bottle of wine into her pack and slung its single strap around her chest, rolling her shoulders back a few times until the mass had settled into a comfortable position for carrying. With her loot secured, the maiden swiftly headed for the exit.

Liselle emerged into the hall and listened to the doors shut behind her, followed by the soft electronic click of a reengaging lock. After descending the few steps leading from Aria's quarters, Liselle quickened her pace as she hastened down the hall. She was eager to make her escape, to immerse herself back into the anonymity that Omega's crowds mercifully offered her and only rematerialize when she arrived at the Eclipse outpost.

As she strode along the gentle bend of the corridor, eyes wide and actively scanning the path ahead for the first sign of movement, Liselle's right hand unconsciously began to clutch at the strap of her now-heavy pack and gave it a small tug to readjust the weight as it was displaced by the motion of her body.

Liselle froze when she heard voices drifting in her direction. She immediately took a retreating step and clung to the wall in silence, attempting to make sense of what was being said and whether the holders of the conversation were headed her way. Her feet were completely prepared to carry her frantically racing away if required, but their service was not needed. The voices were fixed in volume, unwavering and heavily indicative of their source being a stationary discussion.

She remained there for the course of several minutes waiting for the voices to quell, and when her patience receded as her curiosity swelled, Liselle boldly snuck along the curving wall, just far enough so that when she peered around it for a second she had stolen a glimpse of the voices' owners. As soon as her eyes captured the image she pulled herself back again and resumed her waiting, now with forms to complement the disembodied wisps of chatter floating in the air: two asari lingering in the hall; one leaning against the vacant frame of the door Liselle had passed on her way to the penthouse, and the other standing in the middle of the hall as she addressed her companion. Both conversing asari had been wearing robes whose creases shone in the fiery light like precious silk, and both had possessed cigarettes between their digits, holding them idle as thin trails of pale smoke gently poured from their languishing tips.

Not a minute passed before the voices hushed then died down altogether. Liselle prudently waited another thirty seconds before peering out again, and she was relieved to find the hall empty. She peeled herself away from the wall and silently continued on her way, landing each step in a fashion that produced no noise from her soles. When she neared the door Liselle discovered that it was still wide open. She cautiously crept over to stand beside its aperture, knelt down, and unassumingly tilted her head until a single eye was able to steal a glance inside. The interior was a sitting area with only one asari present to lounge on its sofas, occupying its entirety by having reclined and stretched her legs out to the opposite end—and fortunately for Liselle, she was facing the opposite direction as she relaxed and smoked. Unwilling to waste the opportunity, Liselle ghosted past the open door with the conspicuity of a shadow.

A hand burst from the darkness of the room the very instant Liselle passed within its reach, emerging from around the immediate wall where the maiden's glance had not been able to survey. When it seized hold of Liselle's upper arm like the fanged jaws of a metal trap, the maiden jumped, abruptly exclaimed in surprise, and instinctively began to thrash in an attempt to rip herself free. Her struggling pulled the one connected to the malevolent hand from the room and into the corridor along with her, revealing the second source of the dual voices Liselle had spied on before approaching; one of the robed asari, with horrendous detest roasting away in her eyes. Liselle only had a single second to flail like an ensnared animal—twisting and stumbling within her own death spiral—before the elder asari's hand lit up with a sinister blue aura. Her biotics dramatically augmented her strength as she yanked Liselle back, reeling the girl in with enough force to rouse a sudden crack and pop from the arm she violently grasped. The initial surge of pain had yet to register in Liselle's mind when she was brutally slammed into the metal with a muffled bang and bounced off its surface in a daze. As she crumpled downward in breathless shock the pain finally hit her in a piercing wave, and it only doubled when the weight of her body was caught upon her injured arm still held in the grip of the other asari, mercilessly preventing her from hitting the floor. An agonized, almost tortured scream was wrenched from Liselle's throat, quickly devolving into an utterly distraught succession of sobs.

Her captor deliberately twisted her arm again, eliciting another pitiful shriek from the girl, and at its end she serenely wondered aloud, "Well what do we have here..?"

A foot found Liselle's back, forcing her further down until her cheek and the burning tears running down its curve were pressed against the cold floor. She felt her pack being unfastened and pulled from her body and heard its contents being investigated. Her belongings began clattering to the floor in front of her face. Her spare firearm, her emergency medical supplies, a full cylinder of water, and a bundle of replacement blades to fit into her sleeves whenever she craved their reassurance. Soon, the eviscerated pack limply dropped onto its spilled insides, but the bottle of wine never found the floor. It remained in the robed asari's hands as she rotated it in the light, identifying it and discerning its role in the trespasser's operation. Liselle strained, turning her head to see what she was doing.

After reading the label on the bottle, the robed asari shook her head, clicked her tongue, and said aloud as if only to further harm Liselle, "Aria will not be happy about this." Her furious eyes turned onto the maiden. "Get up, girl. You're coming with me."

She reached down and gripped the back of Liselle's collar with her free hand, hauling her to her feet. Liselle might have not so easily complied if she hadn't been choked by the leather pressing hard into the front of her throat.

When her arm was used to direct her into the lounge Liselle also acquiesced with little resistance. The pain was _excruciating._ She felt as if her shoulder had been lit on fire and impaled with knives in the same moment, and the way the other asari's fingernails almost punctured her sleeve and dug into her flesh did nothing to soothe her distress.

The tears in Liselle's eyes blurred her vision while she was directed past the doorway and into an environment that smelled intensely of smoke and perfumes. She managed to blink them away, and saw the asari lounging on the sofa now turned to look over her shoulder at Liselle with immense confusion plastered on her features, undoubtedly in reaction to the din of screams and bangs right outside. She asked her coworker with incredulity, "What the hell is going on?"

In response to all the commotion, a third highly-perturbed asari emerged from a side room—a dressing room—while tying shut a robe much like the ones her allies were wearing.

"I caught a little thief prowling around the hall," the one holding onto Liselle answered the question in her poisonous voice. She held up the bottle of wine to illustrate. "She's been in Aria's room."

Accompanying the surprised expressions her announcement roused, a period of silence enveloped them and it was only periodically broken by the sobbing breaths the tearful Liselle continued to draw. The anonymous, svelte shadows from the high catwalks, who all patrons of Afterlife admired and appreciated, were no longer spectacles in this room. That part of the spectacle had been passed onto Liselle now, the rare and bizarre creature who had unwittingly wandered into the depths of predator territory.

The standing one inquired, "Well, where was Ugeloc? Isn't this his shift?" She resumed making adjustments to the robe's belt, continually glancing upward in anticipation of the reply.

"Oh please, _everyone_ knows we're the real guards on this floor. Anyone with half a brain knows how to fool Ugeloc. He's just here to scare off the more stupid intruders and raise the alarm for us when he can." She shoved Liselle into their midst after releasing her from the harsh manacle of her hand. The maiden staggered and stumbled down to the floor where she rose to knees and cradled her injured limb with her unwounded one.

"I think the real question here," began the asari on the sofa, who was unfolding her legs and bringing them over the side of the seat so that she could sit up to properly examine Liselle, "is how did she get into Aria's room at all?"

They were quieted by the mystery until the one standing near the side room addressed Liselle. "Well? Who are you? How did you get in here?"

Liselle, preoccupied with her arm and too afraid to respond, only looked at her with weak disdain.

When denied her answer, the asari analyzed Liselle's pain before turning to the one who had first captured the girl. "Goddess, Irsmeni. Did you break her arm? We don't even know who she is yet!"

"I didn't break her arm, I only dislocated it!"

"Hey," said the one on the sofa as she shifted to its edge. "Look... she's just a kid. Have a close look at her—you couldn't tell me that she's a day over seventy." Her associates followed her gaze to assess whether this observation was true. "Well, good job Irsmeni. You broke a child's arm."

"I said I didn't break it!"

The one near the side room made a beckoning motion at Liselle. "Stand up. Come here."

Liselle cast her a wary glower, eyes still brimming with tears and complete distrust.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you. That's Aria's place to decide, not mine." She threw Irsmeni a highly disapproving glare.

"Don't give me that look," she objected as she folded her arms across her chest. "She resisted capture and that's all the reason I needed."

Her excuse was disregarded. Again, Liselle was told to approach. "Come here."

After a moment spent defiantly remaining statuesque from where she knelt, Liselle finally rose to her feet and stepped forward. She could feel her heart throbbing with unease inside her chest when the robed dancer laid a hand on her arm and grasped it. Her touch, however, was quite dissimilar to Irsmeni's. She did not grip her abusively nor did she seem intent on causing her further harm. Liselle decided to cooperate for the most part as fingers were pressed into various places on her arm and shoulder, evidently searching for the center of the injury. "My name is Mateia," she told the sniveling Liselle. "My friend on the sofa is Nilena, and you've already met Irsmeni." After another minute was spent examining Liselle's limb, Mateia gently took hold of it and rotated it at the shoulder until Liselle could not help but vocalize the pain it caused her. "Dislocated shoulder," she confirmed. "All right, hold still. I know how to fix it."

Liselle shuddered in panic, but before Mateia could do anything to her a fourth asari had joined them from the dressing room. All eyes turned to the new company, who appeared startled, confounded, and exasperated all at once to find herself in the middle of the outlandish scene. "Dare I ask?" she slowly said.

"Irsmeni's made a new friend," Nilena supplied an answer.

While the fourth asari ventured to the sofas to join Nilena—leering at Liselle with much curiosity as she passed—Mateia returned to the matter at hand. "On three, okay?"

Liselle nodded, shutting her eyes tightly and drawing a deep breath.

"One—"

The pain instantly hit Liselle when her shoulder was biotically forced back into place. A final miserable cry and a string of sobs stumbled past her lips, and the latter lasted until the worst of the sensation had faded. Mateia released her, leaving the girl to cautiously test out the functionality of her arm by turning and rolling it back a few times.

After Liselle wiped her eyes with her palm, Mateia told her to have a seat. She did so, shamefully migrating over to the sofas while avoiding eye contact with anyone, especially Irsmeni who was contemptuously standing guard with her back against the closed door. She felt extraordinarily humiliated. After winning such a glorious victory over the krogan Ugeloc in the hall after summoning all her bravery, creativeness, and resolve, Liselle had proceeded to walk right into a den filled with operatives who had in just a few minutes, deposed her from a triumphant pedestal and cast her down to the lowest slums of self-confidence.

It was all over, Liselle hopelessly thought as she listlessly took her seat adjacent from where Nilena sat. She had been captured, and her self-assigned mission was now a total failure. Her next objective was merely devising her retreat, ideally with her emerging from the club in one piece.

_Don't tell them anything_ , she reminded herself, staring at the glass table in the center of the seating arrangement. If there was anything she had learned from her mother, it was _never_ letting anyone know more than the absolute minimum. _Don't say a single thing unless you have to._

Mateia sat down across from Liselle, pausing and turning to say, "Anthya, go get her things. They're right outside in the hall."

Anthya obeyed, removing herself from their congregation. Irsmeni stepped aside to let her through the door. While they awaited her return, attention was placed solely upon Liselle.

"What's your name?" Mateia tried the question again.

Liselle said nothing, obstinately refusing to give them a damning piece of information to report to Aria.

"What were you doing in Aria's room? How did you get in here?"

When the maiden's silence persisted, Nilena provided Mateia with a speculation, "She couldn't have gotten in without authorization. There's just no way. Aria's put in dozens of fail-safes and even an outward detonation sequence if her lock is tampered with."

"I'm asking _her_ ," Mateia hushed Nilena and turned back to face Liselle.

As she did, Anthya returned with Liselle's belongings. She laid them all out on the table and took a seat beside Mateia to join the conference.

"She was stealing from Aria, obviously," Irsmeni acridly said for the incessant lack of replies. "And who knows what else she could've done while in her room? So if she _doesn't_ have proper authorization, she's both a trespasser and a thief. And if she somehow _does_ have authorization... she's a thief and traitor."

"I had a great debt to pay someone," Liselle said, instinctively reacting to the idea of _anyone_ thinking of her as a traitor. The announcement caught their attention and silenced Irsmeni as Liselle had originally intended, but she quickly realized her story's lack of details beyond that simple premise. They awaited her elaboration, and after some quick thinking, she delivered it, "They told me this was the only way I could pay it."

Liselle's claim created an uncomfortable silence among the group as they pondered what breed of businessperson could regard trophies from notable crime lords as fungible modes of payment. There was no doubt that the transaction the maiden was involved in carried something quite insidious within its terms. Mateia grimly voiced this concern permeating their minds, "Darling, if your creditor sent you here I think they intended for you to pay with your _life."_

Before Liselle could issue a response, Irsmeni spoke first. "I fail to see how the 'whys' matter," she muttered. "Aria will likely return within a few hours or so and I think we should turn her over to the guards until then."

"If we do that then she might just pay with her life after all," Anthya pointed out.

"That's out of our power," said Mateia, looking at them both in turn. "This sort of thing doesn't happen often, and I'm sure Aria will want to be the one to personally question her and decide what needs to be done."

Liselle's posture had unconsciously sunk into anxiety. Her eyes fixed themselves on her left hand, which was weakly gripping the edge of her seat. She only returned her gaze to the events at hand when she noticed Nilena staring at her. The asari had leaned forward, removing her cigarette from her lips to exhale a pale stream of smoke, and never once broke their shared eye contact while doing so. "Hmm," she pensively vocalized. "She kind of reminds me of Aria. That look she's been giving you every so often, Irsmeni. You know what I mean? Aria does that."

"It is a bit of a shame," Anthya remarked while Irsmeni rolled her eyes at Nilena's comment, evidently seeing little resemblance between the timid thief and their fierce boss. "She looks so young and she's probably only here because she's struggling to get by. No one would be so insane to try robbing Aria unless they truly had no other option."

"Well I wouldn't lose any sleep over it," said Irsmeni. "These are troubling times and I'd actually sleep _better_ knowing that we may have intercepted another one of the enemy's _tricks._ So what if she's sentenced to death? We've got a whole organization to help defend and she's definitely not worth it."

Mateia twisted her mouth in uncertainty. "Oh, I'm not so sure Aria would kill her over this if she's not otherwise a threat. If she's desperate for money, maybe Aria would even help her out, or give her a job. But I still can't fathom how she broke into her penthouse. We might be looking at a master hacker, and Aria _never_ wastes useful resources."

"Well come on, then," Nilena said to Liselle, drawing her attention away from the others. "What do you have to say for yourself? I find it hard to believe that you'd passively let a circle of ladies like us decide your fate. Are you ready to give us your name?"

She fell into careful thought. Whether she wanted to or not, Liselle had no choice but to accept dichotomous extremes being the only possible outcomes of her situation: either they would detain her for Aria, or let her go without a word. The second was almost laughable, but because it still existed in the realm of possibility, she had been extremely hesitant to release her name to the people who still might very well report it to Aria if they had by some miracle chosen to let Liselle go. But Aria did not need a name to successfully identify her own daughter; the maiden who strangely had access to her room, the girl with pale blue eyes and a fancy submachine gun fitted on her belt, the tight-lipped young asari who would not give her name as if it were a stamp of authenticity on her own death certificate. She solemnly concluded that whether her name was known or not was completely inconsequential, so she surrendered it with the desperate hope that it might carry some appeal to help her win the hearts of the dancers wardening over her current prison. "It's Liselle," she reticently said.

"So, Liselle," Mateia thoughtfully began, curious to see how her impending question would be answered, "what would _you_ have us do?"

Again, as Liselle opened her mouth to articulate a response, Irsmeni interjected with an exasperated breath and her voiced intolerance, "I can't believe you're humoring the little pest—"

"Athame's tits, Irsmeni!" Nilena aggressively cut her off in return, pulling her cigarette from her lips and pivoting her body to face Irsmeni. "Would you just shut up for once? The only reason why you're kept around is because there's a demographic of patrons who like thinking about you stomping on their crotches. You're a cold, humorless _bitch_ and I for one would rather listen to what this girl has to say for herself than listen to your barking!"

Irsmeni was choked by her own outrage, certain areas of her face growing purplish and her hands balling into fists as she seethed. With a clenched jaw she manged to hiss through her teeth, "I will be back in several minutes." She disappeared into the dressing room to regain her composure, locking the door behind her to accentuate her need for solitude unless one wanted to be on the receiving end of her wrath.

Nilena tapped her cigarette over the ash tray resting at one corner of the glass table, saying dryly to Liselle as her anger receded, "Don't mind her _at all._ As for the rest of us— _we_ are actually interested in people and their affairs. _We_ like to talk. Most people think the only thing we're paid to do is look pretty, but it couldn't be further from the truth." She returned her cigarette to her lips. "Now, back to that question Mateia asked you..."

While Liselle assembled a reply she watched Nilena pass a cigarette and lighter to Anthya, who took one for herself and lit it. "I doubt my answer will mean much to you," said Liselle. "You've probably already decided what you're going to do. But it's in my best interest to leave without having to face Aria. Even if she spares me, I doubt my creditor will too if I come back empty-handed."

From the adjacent sofa, Anthya folded one leg over the other and ruefully regarded Liselle, "They really want their prize, don't they?"

She responded with a single nod.

Mateia sat steadily tapping her fingers on the sofa's arm. "You don't suppose Aria might be feeling generous enough to let the girl have what she came here for?"

"I'm not sure," said Anthya. "She might have a use for her. Or she might not feel too comfortable having a 'master hacker' so close to home."

A sigh passed through Mateia's lips. " _I_ don't feel comfortable, as a matter of fact. You both realize that we're playing with the idea of taking things into our own hands, right? And if we are, is it for a good enough reason?"

Her point blanketed the lounge in a doleful shade. All three of them appeared unhappy in some manner, whether it was stressed, intensely pensive, or saddened. The most significant intersection of their emotions seemed to lie in the fact that none wished to have this responsibility thrust upon themselves. Surrendering Liselle to Aria wasn't just the safest course of action. It was also the _expected_ one. Aria had not populated the floor she often slept on with dancers who sat idly by during the hours of leisure she had given them between shifts. They were still commandos. Resources used to expand and protect Aria's domain, and this duty included trapping suspicious persons for evaluation. But they were not without consciences—even on Omega, the idea of sending a child to her doom could still evoke powerful feelings of sympathy and guilt.

The darkness in their faces brought grief into Liselle's chest. She took it as an omen for her sealed fate being a confrontation with her mother. Although that end was certainly not as lethal as the dancers imagined it could be, there still existed the potential for Liselle's career to be terminated right then and there. And that, to Liselle, was a type of death in itself.

The maiden severed herself from her mournful thoughts to see that Nilena had extended an arm out toward her, and pinched between her fingers was an offered cigarette. It was perhaps an apology for the future, or a gift for a girl who might have just entered the final hours of her life. Liselle accepted it.

She turned it over in her hands a few times, feeling the black matte paper beneath her fingertips and the proud rises of the golden batarian stamp and lettering. Her fluency in batarian common had never been impressive, but she knew enough from her mother and from exposure to a region of space where that language dominated, to read the print. It was the same brand Aria liked; very expensive and commonly perceived as a status symbol among the wealthy, and not for abstract reasons. The degree of quality had arguably won it the title of best exported cigars in batarian space, which was according to many critics, amongst the best in the galaxy. The prestige lied in the hybridized and modified plants rolled into them. They had small traces of compounds often used in sedatives—an attribute very much appreciated by consumers, including Aria. Over the years, Liselle had learned to recognize that whenever she saw her mother with one, it served as an indicator of either a very good or very bad day.

"Have you ever been to Little Khar'shan, Liselle?" Nilena asked and held out the lighter.

Liselle shook her head before placing the cigarette between her lips and leaning in until the flame had lit its tip. The first inhale itched the depths of her throat and induced a few closed-mouthed coughs, through which she weathered and tried containing as to not seem unworldly. After their interruption she was free to enjoy the familiar pleasant scent, and the less familiar velvety taste.

"It's actually the Mazat District," Nilena continued, "but it's perched on one of the biggest docking bays on Omega. Aria's territory, of course. It earned its colloquial name from the amount of batarian culture and customs it's home to. They say it's the closest to Khar'shan that most people ever get, aside from the batarians there who left their homeworld in the first place."

While courteously listening to her, Liselle's eyes had begun to water a bit from the burn of the smoke. She did her best to ignore it, instead focusing on the anecdote Nilena was on about.

"I personally like going there every few weeks solely for the market scene," she said. "There's long busy tiers winding endlessly around towers, kiosks crammed into every available slot on the street, and in the towers themselves are these little stores converted from apartments. The majority of them sell products _right there_. You can pick them up and look at them and haggle with the owners. It's very charming. They only seem to do that locally with perishable goods. Mostly food. In the Little Khar'shan marketplace I once found a small store owned by an old mean batarian woman, and the whole interior was filled with cigars, spirits, incense, and some nice glassware and cutlery. All originally imported from Khar'shan, she told me. _Originally_ being the operative word I suppose, but never mind that." She loosely waved her hand to end her digression. "When you go deeper into the district, it can get _very_ crowded. Heavy traffic at all hours. Bright neon signs blinding and screaming at you, people sitting on balconies overlooking the streets and stalls. It's fantastic. There's drugs everywhere. Fashion, food, dancing, brothels, street gangs, whatever your little heart desires. Then there's the Kephana parades every year—the next one's coming up really soon. It's a batarian holiday that has the district lit up in festival for four straight days."

"Why are you telling me about this?" Liselle asked, curious to see where the account was headed.

"Just making conversation, girl. Don't be so suspicious."

Liselle continued eyeing her with a modicum of suspicion, only turning away to look at Mateia and Anthya. She realized they had been furtively whispering to each other for some time, and when she faced Nilena again she found that the dancer had followed her gaze toward her coworkers. She too returned her eyes to lock with Liselle's after just a moment.

To break their growing silence, and to take advantage of the attention she was given, Liselle spoke quietly and severely, "Aria will do something terrible to me."

The certainly of the girl's belief made Nilena pause for a long time. She peered at the glass table, glanced up at Liselle's slightly glistening eyes, then back downward. The next time her gaze lifted, she brought a mildly contrite smile with her. "Would you like to know something about Aria?" she asked her.

Liselle initially hesitated out of confusion, but soon nodded with intrigue.

"Well first of all," Nilena began, looking quite pleased with what she was about to say, "she's not all thorns and spikes. It's not easy getting up close, because you're probably going to bleed a little bit, so to speak, but beyond that I think she's a _sweetheart._ " She stopped only to gauge Liselle's reaction to her opinion, which was rather indeterminate. "In addition to all she gives us—high pay, comfortable hours, and secure quarters, she also protects us. Promises us an immediate response should we ever find ourselves in danger. We rarely have to invoke that privilege, though. We all have plenty of commando training and we can take care of ourselves, so Aria usually doesn't need to lift a finger for us. But some friends of mine, ah, _courtesans..._ have told me stories that lead me to believe that Aria _coddles_ them. Just a few weeks ago I heard about an incident where one of the girls was beaten pretty badly while on the job. Apparently, her client was furious when she refused to do something rather... unpleasant. He wanted his money back, but she didn't give it to him. After all, she had already performed enough services to merit full pay for that session. And mind you, while any of Aria's dancers could've ripped that man's throat out within seconds in that situation, many of the prostitutes aren't as adept. It may be why a lot of them have chosen that occupation instead of becoming mercenaries or other joining other profitable Omegan enterprises. I'm sure this isn't the case for _all_ of them of course, but according to those I know, it is for a decent percentage. So, when this girl kept his money, he assaulted her and took what he wanted by force."

If Liselle had given no reaction before, she did now. The story had rendered her crestfallen and brought out glints of horror in her eyes.

"Poor thing," Nilena agreed with her expression. "She's very close to my friend, the one who told me about this. Anyway, when he left she crawled out of the room and called for help, but he was long gone. Aria was informed, and just a few days later she had made an 'arrangement' with the girl. Basically, the next time that man was in the area they lured him into a little trap. Two of Aria's operatives, at the time posing as other courtesans, forcibly escorted the man to a room where the door was shut, locked, and guarded behind him. He found himself standing right in front of Aria herself, who looked _so_ calm and patient as always. She told him to have a seat. He did. And Aria explained to him that when people hit her girls, it's no longer just business gone bad; it's _personal_. Then she motioned toward another section of room, and the girl came out and sat with Aria, who gently held her face and clicked her tongue in pity when she examined all the bruises, pretending it was the first time she had seem them. She asked the girl if this was the man who had done this to her, to confirm his identity. She said yes. When Aria asked her what she thought should be done, she said she only wanted justice. She wanted him to feel the pain she had felt, and she wanted to feel safe again in her workplace. And Aria said yes, she could do that. She told the girl to go relax, that she would take care of everything for her. So she thanked Aria, kissed her hand, and left. People heard screams from the room after she left. They say Aria had her guards mutilate him and cut up his face so that not only would he feel pain, but he would also always wear a warning to everyone who dares to be stupid enough to hurt someone under Aria's protection."

"She should've killed him," Liselle harshly muttered.

Nilena gave a small shrug. "I'd probably agree, but Aria was keeping her promise to that girl. She wanted him to feel pain. She wanted him to feel as badly as she had—as she would—for years to come. Whether he deserved it or not, or whether it was the best thing to do or not, weren't things Aria cared about. You see, that's the sort of person Aria is. You immediately love her because she's this motherly presence over her syndicate. The matriarch of her crime family who guards, rewards, and punishes when needed. In one hand she'll take yours and give you whatever you need as long as you'll do the same for her, and in the other hand she's crushing the necks of anyone who threatens the process."

"What about when she doesn't give people what they need?" the maiden requested the information, primarily for her own private uses.

"What they need, or what they want?" Nilena asked for a clarification as she raised her brow. "Because when we're talking about people who work for her, the first one is always seen to. The second is an afterthought. Something Aria gives out when you've been extraordinary enough to deserve it. Is that so wrong of her to do?"

Liselle said nothing at first, opting to divert her stare to the mass of ashes slowly growing at the end of her cigarette. She lifted her chin and spoke, "But is she really sweet if what she's doing is just making relationships that help her out in the end?"

"But isn't that what all of us do? Isn't that why any of us do things for other people at all? We'll be getting something from it. A returned favor, a boosted reputation, that nice little feeling you get in your chest when you make someone happy... they're all selfish gains. They just sometimes happen to benefit another party at the same time, which doesn't actually seem so bad, does it? I say Aria is sweet because protecting certain branches and entities of her organization is _policy_ , not arbitrary whim. She may call upon us for favors that we'd never refuse in light of what she's done for us, but then again she may not. Her generosity may never be repaid, yet she continues. She has _knowingly_ imposed this upon herself. _That_ is why I say Aria is sweet."

Once Nilena had finished, they both turned their attention to Anthya and Mateia, who were still whispering. Their words became clear from the absence of a second conversation overlaying them.

"I don't know," said Anthya. "I think I'm taking a lot of pity on her because she looks so young. She may not sound like it much, but look; still has those big pretty eyes and such. She seems bright, too." She regarded Nilena and Liselle after discovering their scrutiny, and began inclusively speaking with them in mind as well. "I wasn't too different from Liselle before Aria employed me."

With a sideways glance, Nilena visibly mouthed something to Liselle, which she believed to be, " _Here we go."_

"I was robbing people on the streets," said Anthya. "Luring them into alleys and holding them at gunpoint until I made a mistake one day and almost lost my life to one of Aria's officers. I was biotically proficient, sure... but so was she. I managed to hold my ground for a while, but I ended up losing and coming out with broken ribs and some fractures in my forearm. Then, in that alley, the officer had to call Aria to tell her why she was going to be late for something, and Aria... she starting laughing at the officer. Apparently, the idea of her almost being lured down an alley and mugged was hilarious. She had me brought to her. She was curious, she wanted to be humored. I should've had some medical attention first, but no one keeps Aria waiting. Even some street vermin like me knew that much. I was scared to meet her, I really was. I was terrified and in pain and when they brought me to her lounge. I thought she was going to ridicule me or worse. Instead, she invited me to sit with her, and she talked to me. And within ten minutes... I had a job. She had a doctor come patch me up, and in a few weeks I was getting some extra combat training on the side of dancing here."

"Literally one in a million," Nilena commented, "Because in epilogue, Aria kills all the other street thugs that try messing with her."

Anthya turned to deliver her a scowl. "You're not helping."

"I _am_ helping. I'm giving you some reliable statistics."

"My point for saying this wasn't to prove that Aria shows mercy on occasion. It was to assert that maybe my debts are just as overdue as Liselle's."

"I don't follow," Nilena said after a moment of thought. "The only debt you'd owe is to Aria."

"She doesn't need my payment," replied Anthya, resting back in her seat. "If or when she does, she'll let me know. As for now, I think Liselle might deserve a chance."

"You can't be serious," said familiar voice. They acknowledged that Irsmeni had finally rejoined them.

"Anthya," Mateia caught her attention. "I know you don't want to hear this, but I second that thought. What is this about? Atonement?"

She adamantly stared at her for some time, blinking once, then refocused on Irsmeni. At last, she revealed the product of her silence. "Tell you what—let me help her out. I'll get her out of here and arrange something that'll get her creditor off her back. I already have an idea."

"And what if Aria finds out?" Mateia asked with ample concern. Though Liselle had never felt any true animosity from her, she understood and even sympathized with Mateia being very uncomfortable about overstepping the thin line that demarcated common decency from defiance of Aria's wishes.

"Oh, she'll find out," Irsmeni assured her. "I will see to that."

To all their surprise, Mateia shook her head and contrarily spoke, "Oh no you won't."

"I thought you agreed with me!"

"I never said that exactly," she defended herself. "And you know, Liselle's not the only one around here who's been up to things Aria might not approve of." When she deliberately laid her eyes upon Irsmeni, the other asari glowered intensely at the oblique accusation, but the truth it apparently held kept her lips sealed. Mateia returned to Liselle's potential benefactor. "Anthya, if this is something you really want to do, something that'll give you genuine satisfaction, then do it. But you have to understand that if it causes... unfortunate consequences... the responsibility will be yours alone. You'll be one explaining what happened to Aria. So if you're going to help Liselle at all, I think it'd be smart to simultaneously return the wine and make sure nothing's wrong with Aria's room. I'm sure Liselle can get in again, so you'll also be able to see how she did it. Is that a fair trade? Is it a safe trade?"

"It is for me," Anthya said, looking at the maiden to seek her consent as well.

Liselle quickly nodded multiple times as her eyes darted about them.

"Then it's settled," announced Anthya. "I'll escort Liselle out of here, give her something to keep her creditor away, return Aria's property, and if I find anything unacceptable we'll come right back here and watch her until Aria returns."

Silence communicated their collective agreement. Even Irsmeni resigned to the consensus when she realized she was terribly outvoted, albeit quite indignantly.

Anthya faced Liselle as she adjusted her robe in preparation to depart. "Get your things, Liselle."

Liselle gratefully obeyed, smashing the end of her cigarette's remains into the ashtray before gathering her belongings from the table and dropping them all into her pack. With all its contents returned, she slung it over her shoulder, and expressed no qualms when Anthya picked up the wine by its neck and officially relieved the her of its custody. Liselle hardly even cared about it at this point. She was far too elated about being set free to dwell on her failure any longer. Once the two had everything in order and approached the door, Liselle stole a final glance into the room.

"Bye, Liselle," said Nilena, giving her a lazy wave from where she sat. "Good luck."

She responded with a demure smile—the sole one they had seen from her—until Anthya whisked her away by urging her to follow. The pair stepped out into the hall and the door shut behind them, leaving them to their trek toward the elevator and eventually to the main floor of the club. Liselle hadn't taken five steps before she heard Anthya quietly inform her, "Just a warning. If you try escaping from me before we're done here I'll have to break your legs."

Liselle paled and turned her attention back to the corridor. As generous as Anthya might have been for going out of her way to spare Liselle, she was still one of Aria's most exalted commandos and was therefore completely capable of keeping her promises. In total honesty with herself, Liselle admitted that there were various moments in the dancers' lounge during which she forgot just how deadly they were, save for Irsmeni, who had established her biotic prowess immediately. While the violence dealt by her was forever traumatically seared into Liselle's mind, the other three had seemed so docile, warm, and _welcoming_ to her that Liselle could've sworn she was in the company of common civilians. They were fantastically unique, Liselle thought. She was so accustomed to the sight of Aria's average mercenary or commando: heavily armed and armored, marked somehow by unending seasons of war, with their purpose shamelessly blatant. But these dancers were an entirely separate breed on their own. Their role here was an insidiously discreet one. One of baiting, manipulating, and listening behind a curtain of harmless enticement.

It was not difficult to infer why Aria had decided to hire Anthya. She, with her seductive eyelids, alluring voice, and the charming curve of her pretty lips, had not escaped Aria's attention. And the same case could easily be applied to the other dancers Liselle had met as well, as they all had been very attractive by conventional standards in both bodily proportion and countenance. Nilena's face, by Liselle's judgement, was adorned with the friendliest features of their group; soft and amiable and sparingly decorated with tasteful magenta ink, but her calm eyes held a startlingly awake vigor that threatened to expose her complete arsenal of talents. Irsmeni was the least subtle of them; the owner of dangerous beauty characterized by sharp angular features and harsh eyes. And Mateia, whom Liselle had witnessed commanding much respect from her coworkers, had a faint undertone of regality augmenting her already compelling bearing. It was safe for Liselle to assume that each had not been selected for biotic ability alone. For her dancers, Aria had desired the undeniable effectiveness of beauty—just another devastating weapon, if wielded with skill.

Liselle's eyes fell upon the side of Anthya's face, and as they neared the elevator doors she asked her what her plan consisted of.

"Well," Anthya replied while pressing her hand to elevator's access panel. "I can't allow you to steal from Aria. But I can give you something else." They stepped into the empty confinement, selected the main floor as their destination, and awaited arrival.

The maiden pondered the elder asari's answer, but found something fundamentally wrong with it. "I don't think anything else will suffice," she confessed, secretly referring to Wasea's specificity, which translated well into the story she had woven to hide the true details of her errand. "The terms of my deal were very specific."

"I thought as much. No need to worry though. I have friends in convenient places," she briefly turned to smirk at Liselle, grew silent for a few seconds, then spoke again. "Did you know that our lounge was the place where Aria started organizing her revolt against the Patriarch over a hundred years ago?"

Liselle's eyes lit up. She shook her head.

"It was. If you decide to come back sometime, maybe Mateia might tell you more. She was there to see it all; young and newly-hired, still gathering her bearings and starting to fit in around here when Aria showed up and began charming them all. They loved her. _Everyone_ loved her. They wanted to follow her to the ends of the universe. And that lounge was a perfect place to start, if you think about it. Because it's amazing what people will do for a lovely face. What people will do just to keep her around." She raised her brow in thought as she stared at the elevator door. "That sort of work isn't always easy. Sometimes you have to go a little further in order to keep things functioning. She never made them do anything they didn't want to, but for her, a lot them did. Want to, that is."

Despite Anthya's vagueness, Liselle had an strong inkling of what she was speaking of. She was relieved of discomfort when the elevator doors opened and released them back onto the main floor and its pounding waves of music. Anthya led them confidently in her thin robe, fearing nothing and no one. She was impressively aware of her ability to neutralize any threat that might present itself, whether it be by biotically throwing them with a casual lift of her hand, or by siccing Aria's guards on them to avoid even that minimal amount of exertion on her part. So comfortable was Anthya with the mission of wading through the Omegan patrons while clad in one loose layer that she opened a message client on her omni-tool, and began keying out a correspondence to someone—presumably that friend in a _convenient_ place she had mentioned. Liselle closely trailed her, allowing her thoughts to wander into the speculation of whether slipping away into the crowds would've been a simple feat while Anthya was distracted by her correspondent. But she valued the possibility of leaving Afterlife with exactly what she came for (as well as the safety of her legs, in the event of recapture) too much to succumb to temptation.

Anthya eventually brought the two to the center of the floor where the bar encircled the violet resplendence of the hologram pillar, stationed to intercept those who were drawn in by its shameless grandeur. She walked round the bar, glossing over the faces in search of one in particular, and once her eyes had locked onto the batarian bartender preparing a drink in a silvery shaker for a customer, she altered course and went straight for her target. Liselle hurriedly followed.

They replaced the customer when he left with his drink, swiftly cutting in front of a turian who had been previously next in line.

"Excuse me, I work here," Anthya dismissively said to him before he could object, raising her voice to project it over the heavy sounds rippling through the air. She rested her arms on the bar, leaning comfortably against the surface until she was recognized by the bartender. "I need to have a chat with my fellow employee," she continued, yet neglecting to break eye contact with the batarian she spoke of. He was unremarkable in appearance, Liselle thought. The only defining characteristic she could detect was his body language—the seemingly habitual slight leftward tilt of his head.

The bartender averted his gaze to finish cleaning a glass he possessed in hand. He returned it to a shelf below the bar. "Anthya," he nonchalantly acknowledged her, then began wiping the bar down with the towel used in drying the glasses. She was forced to lift her forearms away in order to avoid having them wiped as well. "What do you need? Getting some drinks for the ladies?" He spared Liselle's unfamiliar face a glance, who had come to a stop beside the dancer. She did not reflect the same laxness of posture that Anthya was comfortable in. The girl was rigid, observant, and maybe even a little lost.

"No, Aria has stocked the lounge with far better potables than what you've got under that counter of yours." Anthya playfully bragged. "No. This time, I need a favor."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, nodding with interest and amusement.

"Yeah." Anthya lifted the bottle Liselle had snatched from Aria's room, setting it down onto the bar and watching as the batarian reached out, grasped its neck, and oriented the label toward himself. "We need another one of these."

He chuckled at the audacious request and set the wine back down in front of her. "You got twenty thousands credits on you?"

"Not at the moment. That's why I need that favor." she returned her arms to the bar, inclining her chin a few degrees and delivering an expression that made his eyes narrow in suspicion. "I heard from your friends up at the VIP area that you mix some fantastic cocktails. Even some of your own inventions."

He merely shrugged. "That's right."

"I also heard you counterfeited a few bottles of Erszbat wine last month."

"Your subtlety is legendary, Anthya," he chuckled again. "And about that... what if I did?"

"Don't play coy with me, Korgess. I heard that Drialus Lorhan himself bought them for his big corporate shindig next month. If you can fool that sack of money I bet you could fool a common usurer thug."

"Half the rich don't know what they're drinking," he distastefully remarked while wringing out the towel over the sink. "If the name's exotic and expensive enough to impress their contacts I'd bet a lot of them would drink krogan piss. Just a bit of luck that Lorhan's one of those types. Makes you think—he'll drink that swill out of a fancy bottle and no one will be the wiser, while people on the streets drink the exact same thing out of a can. So let me know: is our customer the _discerning_ sort?"

Anthya looked to Liselle for an answer, as she knew nothing about the person she claimed to be indebted to. Liselle nodded, suspecting Wasea to be quite able to tell the difference between some mutant cocktail and the real thing.

Korgess regarded Liselle curiously. His four eyes briefly flitted back to Anthya, gradually comprehending the situation and identifying Liselle as the person who this favor seemed to revolve around before he began tapping his fingertips on the bar. At last he reached down, retrieving a bottle with an identical structure to the Caeran 2042 vintage. After opening and pouring its exiguous contents into a glass he slid it down to the fuming turian still awaiting his turn to order, and said to him, "On the house. It's dextro."

He received it, inspected it, deemed it a fair deal and a better alternative to waiting several more minutes, and left.

The batarian began rinsing the bottle out, but neglected thoroughness for time. "See," he said, shaking the bottle out over his lower sink to remove the remaining droplets, "you have to say that to people even when you don't need to. There's no protein in this shit. It's fermented sugar. Our _own_ sugars are dextro. Why do I have to tell them? This entire fear is based upon the occasional freak accident where we find a new enantiomer that someone's enzymes can't handle, and suddenly _all_ dextro or levo is deadly." He filled up the empty bottle with a base wine, stopping when it reached half capacity. "Did you know that twelve percent of known asari-native proteins are dextro-oriented? I don't see any of you coughing up blood."

They watched him adding in a few tiny shots of various diluted liquors with interest. While Liselle stood statically, Anthya had propped her herself up with a palm tucked beneath her chin and the column of her forearm placed upon the bar acting as its support. Korgess muttered to himself when reaching for a canister of elasa, which registered in Liselle's mind as something along the lines of, "Just a bit; need some tartness..." and carefully poured in a minuscule amount. "Great year, though. Needs some 'age'..."

"Why are you here, Bothan?"

He momentarily lifted his gaze, reflecting confusion in his glossy dark eyes. "...Why am I here?" he echoed.

"Well, you're obviously qualified for other occupations," Anthya explained. "You're educated, aren't you? Why don't you look for other work?"

"Why don't you?" he retorted, but refrained from malice. He only seemed interested in having Anthya understand. "You've got what it takes to run with the mercs or join Aria's pirates and sail all over the Sahrabarik. So why stay here?"

"Well, I like it here," she supposed. "I enjoy the work I do. It's fun." Anthya gave a playful grin.

He slyly raised the elasa canister to her conclusion. "There's your answer. And for the record, I spent a few years in a medical profession. I was a surgeon. On Omega it's hardly a shrinking industry, so I had my fair share of work. I just got tired of it and decided to use my skills for a bit of mixology. There's still plenty of blood spilt in this club, but, less of it... and that's good enough for me." He topped off his concoction with a bit of wine from an average recent year and screwed it shut, then held it parallel to the floor before mixing it to uniformity by manual rotation.

Anthya wryly smiled. "One can only imagine your dismay when you found Olat Dar'nerah as he was."

"I try not to think about it," he grumbled. "Not even two months working here and I get slammed with that shit. Whoever's been doing these things are some _sick fucks_." He set down the bottle on the counter in front of them. "There you go. It might not be perfect, but it'll convince the best. Also, you might want to compensate _Aria_ for her stocks."

The dancer rolled her eyes at him, smirked, and offered, "A thousand. Plus... let's see... I can get you some nice cigars? You want some?"

"I don't really smoke. But, tell you what, I'll take them anyway. A thousand and some cigars it is. I'll just sell off the cigars myself."

She pleasantly tilted her head at him and took the bottle into her possession. "You're too sweet."

"Yeah, right. But what are you going to do for the label?"

Anthya pushed the two wines into Liselle's arms, evenly splitting her attention between her and Bothan while delivering her response, "I've got a friend on that. No fake IDs or deeds this time, I told him. We're mixing things up a bit tonight. He says he'll send it over in an hour, and I expect Liselle here can stick around until then."

"Not if Aria shows up early," she reminded her.

"She won't," said Anthya, but gave no explanation of why that was so. Perhaps, Liselle believed, any relevant information was far too important to compromise in a densely populated environment. "Have a lovely shift, Korgess. We still have some business to get to."

He nodded once in farewell as the two asari delved back into the babel. It was not until they had passed the unhappy turian woman with the assault rifle and into the confines of the elevator, that either of them spoke again. Anthya was the one to break the renewed silence, looking over at Liselle with her fingers securely wrapped around the necks of the bottles hanging at either side of her body.

"I like Bothan," she composedly stated. "He's smart, skilled, and usually helpful. He's one of those people who never wants to show you all his cards at once. Picks and chooses which to show you, and every time you leave you feel like you missed something. I always liked that. Aria does it too."

Liselle raised her brow as if to silently ask _is that so?_ despite knowing exactly what Anthya meant.

"Also," Anthya said, "like we mentioned earlier, he was the one who found Olat Dar'nerah in that statue's hand. Did you hear about that? Of course you have, everyone has by now... Someone plucked out Olat's eyes, and somehow got him up there for us to find. A threat. It made Aria _furious,_ and Bothan being the first one on the scene had to sit down with her for some questioning. He told me a bit about it. Poor man. For a former surgeon he really does _not_ like seeing bodies, which strikes me as strange."

"Trauma?" Liselle suggested.

"Hmm, maybe. Perhaps that's why he quit his other job and came here," Anthya wondered aloud. "For the past few weeks I've _tried_ getting his attention, but he's either oblivious or disinterested. Maybe he doesn't even prefer _my sort._ That would be disappointing..."

Neither said anything more while heading down the corridor encircling the top floor. Anthya did not even pause to update the others when passing by the lounge's closed, locked door. Instead she kept her head facing forward, tracking Liselle's continued presence by the sound of her footsteps alone. When they came upon the few stairs leading up to Aria's room, Anthya stopped and held her hands out toward Liselle to request the bottles.

"Go on," she said as the maiden relinquished the wine to her. She sent a brief glance toward Aria's door to indicate what she spoke of. "Do what you did before."

Liselle maintained their mutual stare for a few seconds, wide-eyed, alert, and visibly stressed. At last she broke away from the dancer's gaze. She faced the door and began traveling up the short steps, ascending to the tiny stage upon which she would demonstrate her unrivaled skills of breaking and entering to her audience of one. In hesitation, Liselle looked back over her shoulder to see Anthya taking a few purposeful, rightward steps. She seemed vastly interested in what Liselle was about to do, observing intensely for fear that she might miss a vital step in Liselle's procedure if she were to allow a single moment's lapse in attention.

The girl returned her eyes to the panel as her nerves began to fray. Shakily she lifted her hand, applied it to the panel, and waited for the computer to process the input and grant her access. Her heart was pounding against her ribs with bruising amounts of anticipation. The sound of the lock and the door's internal mechanisms disengaging almost made her jump, and with the heavy door having retreated into the slots in the walls that framed its sides, Liselle pivoted her torso back in Anthya's general direction, but she kept her eyes directed elsewhere.

If she had beheld Anthya's expression, Liselle would have found her stunned. She stared at the so-called thief standing in the doorway, which so patiently awaited her entry by remaining open until her proximity was no longer detected, as if the girl herself was the one it had been designed and built for. Behind her timid frame lied a trove of Aria's possessions, all beautiful and valuable and many containing precious secrets, yet they had been so easily unveiled to the world by this strange, unassuming asari whom Anthya had never even seen nor heard of before. It was as if the very chest of Aria's syndicate had been effortlessly pried open, exposing its tender, vital organs to all the malicious hands of Omega; the core, their leader, the person whom so many respected and held beloved. The tragic sight before her eyes made Anthya's heart wrench in fear and dismay.

"You..." she breathlessly began, finally finding Liselle's eyes with her own. "You added your ID to the authorization list, then? You found a way into it?"

Liselle responded with a small shake of her head, the grimness in her face unwavering. "No."

"Then how..."

Bearing a sheen of nascent tears in her eyes and a quiver in her voice, Liselle remorsefully said to her, "I can't tell you."

"But, I just don't see how you..." Anthya shook her head in disbelief before her words trailed off into silence. She mustered the resolve to travel the steps and join Liselle in the doorway, all the while both sending and receiving an unyielding stare from the eyes that reflected the hall's warm rays of light in such a _nostalgic_ way.

"No," Anthya quietly and severely spoke, her voice barely breaking the threshold of a whisper. "No indeed. Do _not_ tell me. Do not tell me _anything_ I wouldn't want the burden of knowing. I don't know who you are, but if Aria's given you access to her room... I don't think I have any business knowing."

When they finally stepped into Aria's quarters, Anthya handed Liselle the original bottle of wine to return to its rightful place amongst Aria's other prized libations. As she meticulously fixed the surrounding bottles back into their proper order on the rack, Anthya had busied herself with scanning various spots in the room with her omni-tool, evidently searching for transmitting devices or other anomalous signatures. When Liselle had finished her own task, she retreated from the cabinet and stood demurely out of the way. She watched Anthya move from each location to the next with singleness of mind, unfazed by even the slightest distraction and remained completely engrossed with the task at hand. Such behavior was expected of a commando with an important mission—to not fall victim to the enchanting reality that she was in the bedchamber of her famed boss—but Liselle could not help but notice something within that apathy. Not only was Anthya seemingly disinterested in the novelty of the visit, but her sureness, her brevity, and her extrasensory knowledge of discreet alcoves spread throughout the room, led Liselle to suspect she was not _completely_ unfamiliar with her surroundings.

The observation didn't shock her. Liselle may have lacked first-hand experience with multiple facets of reality, but she was not ignorant of their existence nor of her mother's access to nearly anything she desired. Anthya included. Part of Liselle envied Aria for her freedom to indulge in life's numerous opportunities however and whenever she pleased, and part of Liselle... almost scorned her for it.

Anthya ultimately failed to find any evidence of tampering, after spending ten minutes or searching the penthouse. With her hands fitted on her hips, she approached the girl and exonerated her.

"I can't find anything out of place," she confessed, still gazing about the room in case she had overlooked something. "I suppose... I suppose that means I let you go, as per our arrangement, once we get the label for your fake stuff." She tapped her index finger to the side of the bottle hanging by its neck from Liselle's hand. "My friend said it'll be less than a half hour from now. Until then, I can probably invite you to the lounge. And don't worry. If Aria shows up, we'll sneak you out and I promise I won't let Irsmeni say a word. If she hangs out the door to tattle on you we'll just hit her over the head and drag her back in, okay?"

Liselle lightly snorted at the image.

"All right then, let's go. Don't worry Liselle, you'll be out of here soon."


	16. No Sleep for Conspirators

**TORUS INQUIRER — "Signs of a Batarian Exodus?"**

Since the central batarian government began dissolving into traditionalist preferences of focused power after several months of heated internal conflicts [which most political analysts ascribe to an extreme binary in partisanship], recent immigration data from the Citadel has shown a huge spike in residency applications from citizens leaving Khar'shan and its colonies. The influx seems to be directly linked to the political turmoil on Khar'shan; particularly, the fear of the ruling sovereign denying the appointment or election of new advisors and governors to consolidate their powers in himself, has permeated the population and sent those on the opposite end of the ideological spectrum packing their bags and seeking out areas of the galaxy better suited for their desired lifestyles.

The Citadel has been a popular destination with new arrivals increasing each day, but the surge in numbers has also caused the station numerous problems. Due to Citadelian policies regulating population, only a certain number of applicants are granted residency each year, which means countless batarians [and other peoples] are being rejected in droves. Most immigrants have turned to applying for temporary visas and permits, but there still exists a large proportion that have neglected to undergo the process completely. An unknown population of displaced batarians have taken indefinite refuge in the Wards rather than return to their home planets. In a statement made yesterday, Executor Tellick described the situation as a "potential socio-economic crisis" that C-Sec would work tirelessly to stabilize before both the Citadel and those unaccounted for experience negative repercussions.

We found Ipatin Adlekak along with dozens of other recent arrivals at one of the crowded docking bays, waiting for their party of passengers to be granted entry onto the Citadel. They claimed to have been waiting at that particular terminal for over six hours. When asked about her experience and concerns for the future, Adlekak stated, "What are we? A few thousand leaving a nation of over ten billion? Maybe more will come to the Citadel over time, but that won't change anything. We are of little significance. We know we aren't welcome here. We come with _strange_ clothes, _strange_ language, and _strange_ religion, and when we ask for the same respect the people of the Citadel are reluctant to give it. It is because we, unlike so many other races with embassies here, have not assimilated into the Council's cultural definition of normality. This is why the batarian population on the Citadel is so small. Who wants to live in a place where people automatically assume you to be a terrorist, or a slaver, when in reality you don't even condone it at all? But trouble at home has given us little choice. The Terminus Systems and the Attican Traverse are not options for me, so I must try my luck at establishing a life here."

On that same note, Khar'shan media has been spotlighting a sudden wave of arrivals to their own worlds, coming from both Council Space and the Terminus Systems. The strange occurrence of returning peoples—apparently _attracted_ to the shift in power distribution for the Hegemony—has been described as a homecoming and a sign that the batarian state is slowly but surely repairing itself to regain the glory and success of its elder days. As a consequence, Hegemony population numbers have reported neither a net gain nor loss, and the overall attitude expressed by traditionalists has been extreme optimism for the coming years.

"Long ago, when we opened an embassy on the Citadel," says batarian political writer Drotok Cra'norah, "our people lost faith in Khar'shan. We kneeled and groveled at the feet of other races, throwing away our self-respect and pride and values just to accommodate their whims. Many flocked to the Terminus Systems in response—a place of chaos and criminals—to seek what they fundamentally identified with as a culture. Strong leadership, logical systems of dominance, and the unabridged freedom to practice our customs and religions. The Terminus Systems became our second capital; a wish, a dream, a _prayer_ that the homeworld might one day again be worthy enough to contain the soul of its people."

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Somehow, with her stomach full of burning liquor and her throat uncomfortably raw from consuming one too many cigarettes, Liselle returned home without shattering her fake but convincing bottle of wine upon stumbling down in the street or tripping over the first ascending step when boarding a cab. Nevertheless, she had enjoyed the company of Afterlife's dancers. Once their prisoner was no longer a prisoner but a guest, the dancers became lively, revealed their archives of scandalous stories, and frequently reveled in their access to potent amenities which they kindly shared with Liselle over the next half hour while awaiting the final touch to her counterfeit wine. Their presence helped heal the ulcers of loneliness growing steadily within her, and their drinks fed a temporary amnesia of any ills, fears, and scorn she might have harbored that evening; anxieties that peeled back and let her blossom with smiles and laughter after too long an era spent brooding.

Although Irsmeni had chosen not to join them, instead opting to stubbornly scowl in the far corner of the lounge and starve herself of the merriment enjoyed by her coworkers and their guest, Liselle did not miss her at all.

The maiden slumped down onto her bed when she finally reached its inviting sheets and was only able to clumsily squirm out of her pack's strap before consciousness abandoned her for the night. She left her blinds undrawn, letting the shafts of somber, smoldering light and the deep coal-black shadows of occasional traffic to bleed through the window and pass over her peaceful form as she slept.

She dreamed of swirling colors, rippling light, and voices that sounded as if they were issued by individuals outside the glass bowl of water Liselle assumed herself to be immersed in. As she floated about her abstract nocturnal musings, Liselle noticed a peculiar sense of undulation; waves of unsteady motion pressing against her, sweeping her up into a gentle push-and-pull cycle beneath glimmering rays whose warmth was so benevolent that she _swore_ it was sunlight, and the tides that moved her to be oceanic waves—or at least, how she always imagined them both to feel based upon the extranet data she had absorbed over the years.

She awoke late the next morning and mourned for herself. Her head throbbed from the first moment her eyes opened and beheld the glow of her window, and the pain intensified when she tried to swiftly escape the exposure. A second ailment was soon recognized, though much more repairable; her stomach twisted acutely for proper sustenance.

After patching up her health as much as she could manage, Liselle packed away her wine and made haste for the Eclipse outpost, hoping to complete her appointment there before word arrived that Aria had found something new for Liselle and her team to do. As expected, she was stopped and identified by the guard standing vigil at the outpost's dreary entrance. First Lieutenant Wasea was contacted to confirm the validity of the girl's claims, and once granted entry Liselle was escorted by several armed mercenaries through the lobby, into the solemnly quiet elevator, and they only left her side when she passed into the executive office at the peak of the tower. Throughout the short journey, Liselle had wished the power used in lighting the building was still undergoing the technical delays which had blanketed her first visit there in murky shadows. Now the ceiling-mounted bulbs liberally and mercilessly assaulted Liselle with baths of light, making her wince and her head throb anew even as she approached the hole-peppered desk Wasea now occupied like a twisted, fiendish parody of a conventional CEO.

Although her arrival was anticipated, Wasea tore her pensive gaze from the horizon beyond her window, turned, and could not help but triumphantly leer at the maiden striding into her office with lovely cargo in hand. She stood in her illuminated glory—a potent stature sheathed in taut black, wild red streaks of color blazing across her features, and eyes as gray and ominous as storms swirling around faraway worlds. The monstrosity of her expressions had departed along with the darkness of the room, leaving behind much less ambiguous features to decipher and address.

"Well, well, well," Wasea said as the corners of her mouth curled into the ends of an emerging grin. "Look who's back."

Liselle placed the wine on the desk without a word, deliberately rotating the bottle to orient the label in Wasea's direction as she had her guards evacuate for their privacy.

"I'll admit, for a while I didn't think you had it in you," Wasea continued to prod her once they were alone. Her eyes locked onto her prize and a black-clad limb followed, extending her hand outward to greedily receive her compensation. "But it seems that little Liselle might be just as full of surprises as her mother..."

Before the lieutenant could fasten her fingers around the bottle's neck, Liselle's hand seized and removed it just out of her reach.

"You have no idea what I had to go through to get this," she said to Wasea, staring through resolute, distrustful eyes framed in the shadows of her inadequate rest. "I want my half first."

Surprise, then amusement, was her answer. "The surprises just never end," Wasea remarked. She retreated to the desk's drawer, leaning in to sift through its minimal contents until a familiar piece of folded paper was retrieved. After dropping the note onto the desk next to the bottle, she watched the maiden abandon the wine to eagerly scoop it up and begin unfolding the paper to see what lied within.

Her eyes darted over the few scrawled lines, lifting the information from the paper as quickly as her wits allowed. "Samesia Trakas," Liselle read aloud in puzzlement. She looked to Wasea's cryptic face for answers, but found none readily offered there. "Who is this?"

Wasea let her question purgatorially wait as she examined her wine, reading every section of its label and holding the liquid up to examine its transparency in the light. "I promised you the name and location of someone who knows something about you, and if you're lucky, maybe even about your father," she listlessly replied at length, still investing the majority of her attention in the wine. "And there it is. Do what you will with it. It's no concern of mine."

"You won't tell me anything about this person?" Liselle asked, the displeasure in her voice sharply climbing.

"Wasn't part of our deal," came Wasea's nonchalant response.

Liselle became silent, tightly holding the meager note in her hand as she glared at the elder asari. The longer she watched Wasea pour her attention over the bottle of wine, whose qualities remained under copious suspicion but did not seem to betray the scam they served, the more restless she grew. At last she expressed her discontent, "So if you've told me that you yourself _don't_ know what this person apparently knows, then what makes you think she knows anything at all? How do you know she'll even help me? _You_ wouldn't give me answers to those questions even if you had them, so why would _she_ defy Aria while you won't?"

Wasea shrugged. "Just a hunch."

"A _hunch?_ "

"Did I stutter?" Wasea lowered the bottle to the desk again and returned the girl's challenging tone. "I promised you nothing more than a lead. You should be grateful that I was willing to give you that chance at all. This wine? I don't care about this shit. I can buy my own whenever I want. I just take pleasure in seeing Aria have a bit less today than she did yesterday. But it's definitely not as precious to me as your profits from our arrangement are to you. You see, I just needed some insurance. Giving you information like that—" She aggressively pointed at the note, "—could get my tongue cut _right out of my mouth_ , and you stealing from Aria could get you booted from her syndicate. That's why if one of us talks—" An index finger was lifted to sharply draw a line across her neck, "—we're both fucked. So keep your mouth _shut_ and stop acting so entitled and invincible. You should be thanking me for this! You should be _grateful_ for my generosity!"

For every word Wasea snarled at Liselle, the maiden received and added to the fires of her temper. She was indignant. She felt cheated, insulted, and belittled—ultimately, taken advantage of due to her inexperience and age. All the previous night's pain, fear, and incidents that could've grown cataclysmic for Liselle and Aria both, had been equated with a hunch; with a name and address of dubious legitimacy, with such gross amounts of ambiguity and vagueness, yet Wasea stood there demanding a shower of appreciation. So intense was Liselle's loathing that her hands perceptibly began shaking at her sides, and tears welled in her eyes.

"What's the matter?" Wasea cruelly asked her. "You going to cry about that? You're the type that cries over everything, aren't you?"

As the first tear left her eye and slid down the curve of her cheek, Liselle suddenly lunged forward, vaulting herself in rage over the desk and threw herself at Wasea. She swung her fist, missed her target as Wasea swiftly stepped away, and when the toe of her boot caught the desks's edge before her body completely cleared its obstacle, she stumbled forward—smacking headfirst into the layer of blinds veiling the window, and rattling the pane with the force of her falling weight. Various crunches and clatters announced her limbs' entanglement in the blinds after bouncing back from the thick glass behind them.

While she worked to pull herself free, Wasea watched in amusement, highly entertained by her bold attack. It was misguided, and neither well thought-out nor well executed, yet there was such power in the statement it embodied.

She _was_ crying about it, Wasea saw. The tears rolling down her cheeks had answered Wasea's remarks with a despairing _yes_ , and clenched fists left her sides immediately afterward as if desperately seeking retribution against the one who had exposed obscene truth. The Eclipse lieutenant had never before witnessed a pathetic, defiant pride such as this, and the more she watched, the less she understood it. There was no valor she had ever associated with weeping. It was feverish, almost frantic. It was the face of creature filled with passionate disdain, and one who was completely unable to unleash it. If the same behavior had been displayed by anyone else, Wasea thought, she might have even felt threatened, not by the strength of the adversary... but by instability.

The lethal uncertainty.

_And what if she comes back one day, vengeful and ambitious and ready to play war for real?_ Wasea pondered.

To leave behind her perplexed thoughts, Wasea asked Liselle as the girl ripped free of the blinds, leaving them bent and askew, "Feel better?"

The look she received from her was one of pure hatred.

Before either could be prompted back into violence, Wasea turned away and lifted a hand to her earpiece when she heard the distinct chirp of an incoming call. "What?" She was silent for the next few seconds, gray eyes flitting about the surface of her desk unmindfully. They soon narrowed. "Just having a little chat. Yeah... You're kidding me." She swore. "All right, get your ass up here. Let's move."

The call was terminated, leaving Liselle to continue glaring at Wasea while her anger dissipated.

"It pains me to say so," Wasea sneered at her, "but I've got something else to take care of now."

One of Wasea's guards reentered the office—an asari fully dressed in the notorious Eclipse yellow—and approached. She eyed Liselle with great interest as the maiden returned to the front of the desk, leaving the mess her body had carved where it lay in geometric dissonance. When she came to a stop with the desk between her and her superior, with Liselle stiffly standing just two paces to her right, the asari shamelessly asked, "Who is she?"

"That's not important," replied Wasea. "Just some side business." She left her position to join the two on the other side.

"Well then," said her guard, strolling over to a tall locker hidden amongst the shelves still lined with old artifacts from the previous owner, "as I mentioned before, Asana needs us there in no more than twenty minutes. She says to expect conflict." She entered a sequence of numbers into the lock and opened the metal door, revealing a full suit of Eclipse armor whose emblematic sun carried extra streaks of color to denote higher rank. The boots were removed and tossed toward Wasea, who was already kicking off the dark civilian ones she wore.

Once Wasea had donned her armored boots and rose with intense displeasure etched into her features, her guard approached her with sections of the midriff and fitted them onto the other asari. "Though it is nice to have the power back on in here," the guard remarked with a brief upward glance, gesturing at the light-radiating fixtures in the ceiling with her eyes. "Now we all get to see your pretty blue face again. Or is it violet? Never could tell..."

"One more word and I'll hit you so hard it'll launch you into fucking orbit," Wasea said before smacking her hands away and approaching the locker to finish swiftly pulling on her armor. Once finished, with a shotgun fitted on her lower back and her helmet held idle at her hip, Wasea turned to address Liselle. "It's time for you to go now. And kid—when the information I gave you turns out to be useful, just come back here if you're interested in anything else. I'm sure we can work out something again."

There was no friendship in their exchanged gaze of acknowledgement. Liselle swallowed her dislike and nodded in farewell, but not without first quietly and spitefully muttering with the straightest face she could maintain, "Enjoy the wine."

"I will," Wasea assured her.

The maiden retreated to the office door and disappeared from sight when it shut behind her, leaving Wasea and the other officer alone.

"We're leaving in five minutes," Wasea informed her, "so I hope you're ready." In an afterthought, she irritably grumbled while adjusting the plating over her forearm, "I'm sick of this fucking armor. Gaudy and cheap as hell. I swear when we finally leave Omega I'm commissioning something better..."

As she griped about her ensemble, the officer had migrated over to the lone bottle of wine standing at the corner of the first lieutenant's desk. She took it in hand and examined it out of curiosity. "Is this what that girl brought with her? It's good stuff. I like what they did with the new bottles a few years ago. That bluer tint in the glass. Modern."

Wasea froze, her widening eyes slowly lifting from her arm to stare off blankly into space, then darting toward her officer. "They changed the bottles only ten years ago."

The officer initially found the iteration unremarkable, and was about to state that she had just said essentially the same thing not three seconds ago, until she remembered what vintage was posted on the label. When Wasea approached her, expression completely void from signs of intense contemplation, she made no form of objection when her superior removed the bottle from her hand to scrutinize it herself. After setting down her helmet on the desk, Wasea began rotating the bottle in her hand, occasionally tossing it just a few centimeters up into the air while spinning it for faster access to different features, and ultimately ceased that part of her investigation to stand there silently like a timeless, immutable statue with a sun painted on her chest as if in an attempt to delineate all the heat burning deep in her heart. She began nodding—shallow, slow nods of comprehension, of acceptance.

And then Wasea turned on her heel in a sudden explosion of energy, a horrible snarl twisting its way into her face as she hurled the bottle with all her natural might. It burst upon the wall when it connected, sending a spray of rich magenta liquor and glittering blades of glass flying outward in a shimmering haze of destruction. The pungent scent of alcohol filled the air as Wasea shouted in rage, turning her outpouring wrath onto to the chair behind her desk by seizing it in her rigid hands and throwing it. It too was slammed against the wall and landed with a clattering thud amid the fallen shards and the glistening pools of the cocktail creeping along the floor, into the cheap carpets, and toward their feet. The dark stain soon framed the soles of Wasea's boots as she seethed.

"I can call the lobby," the other asari quickly offered, interpreting her superior's anger as the creation of a new enemy. "We can stop her there—"

"No!" Wasea said. Her voice fell just a few decibels short of a shout. Held beneath the confounded stare of her officer, Wasea took a long moment to retrieve herself from the grip of hysterics. "Forget it," she concluded. "We need to move out."

"Are you sure? We can easily catch her. We can—"

"I _said_ don't bother," she assertively hissed, fiercely ramming the officer with her shoulder as she passed her. "Just follow me."

Her order was obeyed.

When the pair filed into the elevator, joined by another duo of guards awaiting their departure, Wasea folded her arms and contemptuously mused while glowering at the metal doors. _She'll be back,_ she thought in regards to Liselle. _She'll be the one helping me. And it needs to happen soon. Mother dearest told her scary stories, told her what Omega was all about, but the kid could never understand. She taught her to use a gun, but the kid didn't understand why. Now she's starting to get it. Looks at you with the same hatred and vengeance... Wonder who she actually got it from. Wonder who she got the 'whiny annoying burden' from too. But g_ _ive her a few years out here and she'll be cracking skulls all the same._ _Those punches are going to start connecting sooner or later, and when they do, they're going to hurt immensely. But I'll be fucking damned if I have to deal with another Aria T'Loak... No. Liselle's mine._ She removed the firearm from her back to double-check its settings and modifications. Once the elevator released them into the lobby, she loudly cocked the shotgun and led her band of Eclipse mercenaries from the safety of their fortress. Other Eclipse operatives scurried about the yard, sending and receiving calls, hopping into skycars, and some falling in line behind Wasea as expected of them.

_A crybaby double-crosser,_ Wasea continued to spitefully think, her frown stony and sour. _Just my luck... just my fucking luck._

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Tevos kept her scheduled appointment with the turian councilor bright and early the next morning, albeit while fighting against the blurriness cloaking her mind. And although Estulius had inquired about his fellow councilor's obvious sleep deprivation—to which Tevos answered with a half-truth about working late on overdue projects—he also remarked on the pleasant mood spiting her own weariness. Tevos attributed _that_ to the simple fact of completing all her aforementioned work at last.

The remainder of their talk went well, with no reported troubles aside from the wry acceptance of seeing the Council's current criticisms no longer revolving around issues of favoritism at home, but of favoritism abroad; namely, in the Terminus Systems. After they noncommittally suggested ways of dispelling such a notion for some time, Tevos returned to her office to prepare for the arrival of Medora's substitutes for her Spectres. It would be a vital and delicate encounter, where she would receive agents she had never met or collaborated with in any manner prior to this sensitive operation. So much of her trust would be immediately funneled into their contingency—enough to cause a healthy amount of concern to plague her as she waited.

Over the next half-hour Tevos attempted to sort through and reply to some of the countless messages continually pouring into her private terminal. While she did, Tevos had naturally taken to reminiscing about spending the previous night with Aria. Not only were her thoughts permanently decorated by memories of having Aria so boldly beneath her touch, where she finally voiced all her once-suppressed desires through enthusiastic fingertips and lips, but there also existed the warming remembrance of what was returned for her bodily worship.

She remembered how Aria had laid her down and touched her. She remembered the feeling of her lips against her skin and her own, each caress sumptuous like a malevolent dream posing as rich and divine generosity. Kissing Aria had been a _luxury,_ and the longer she kissed her the more luxurious its action became, making Aria's lips feel ever softer and sensual from the profuse attention they were given and returned, cold with exactitude yet burning with want and dominion. Tevos's hands had secured themselves on the sides of Aria's jaw, her neck, stroking down to her shoulders and back as she invited and received each heady connection. She had been unwilling to stop until Aria finally broke away—eyes half-lidded and smoldering with coals of lust—to further their engagement. If she hadn't, Tevos might have been content to lie there kissing her for hours if time was no scarce commodity.

The memory alone made the air in Tevos's lungs feel thin. She remembered for how long Aria's mouth and hands had hungrily mapped her body, sometimes roaming over her remaining clothes and sometimes deftly finding her way into them, exploring and claiming flesh into her palms and possession. By the time Aria had lowered a hand between her legs, slowly and teasingly massaging her there through her thin clothes, Tevos painfully longed for her and she let her know; allowing her hands to drift over Aria's shoulder blades and caress the back of her neck, imploring her through the exquisite language of touch to relieve the aching in her core. A hand had ventured past her waistband, descending until Aria's fingertips had applied themselves where she sought them most, and Tevos had clutched at her and sighed in anticipation as she grew accustomed to the touch. Aria lingered there with shallow and persuasive strokes, both building and gauging the councilor's readiness until she easily slipped into her. Tevos had unconsciously curled her fingers against Aria's back in an tacit but ardent expression of approval, welcoming the intrusion she had craved and all the physical satisfaction it provided. While she did, Tevos heard Aria nearly purring at how much her intimacy had been desired throughout that night, made evident by the appreciative stroking of the back of her neck, and the ease with which the advances of Aria's fingertips were accepted.

Tevos had marveled at the sureness of Aria's presence and actions, now including those that existed in bed. Everything about her—the way she settled between her thighs, granting Tevos glimpses of her physique whenever she dared to look, and how she supported one of Tevos's legs in her free hand where she possessively folded it around her waist and held it there—had enraptured her. She adored the elegance of her slender yet undeniably strong fingers, how experienced, knowing, and utterly pacifying their ministrations were, patiently seeking out what style of thrusts and usage of her palm's heel would make the councilor delicately writhe and instinctively try to close her legs around the source of her pleasure. And when Aria had found them she used them persistently, coaxing out breaths that soon began carrying the faintest sounds defiant of Tevos's attempts to hold them back, and attracting her hands toward Aria's forearms where they fumbled for the smallest semblance of purchase.

She was partially denied that when Aria seized a wrist with the hand once holding her leg and pinned it to the bed. After securing it there, Aria had leaned in and lowly whispered to her, asking her if this was how she liked to be touched—a question she already knew the answer to, but desired to hear it nevertheless. The words had dripped from her lips like delicious poison, soothing Tevos's nerves and creating the ethereal sense of being both prey and a lover at once, with the distinction forever lost in the beautiful and bewitching lilt of her voice. And Tevos had listened to every word and softly issued her affirmative reply, all the while very distracted by the lovely shape of Aria's knuckles against places that occasionally made her give in to the small closed-mouthed moans forming in her throat.

She remembered how Aria slowed, her digits leisurely and confidently proceeding as if only to vaunt her understanding of where and how Tevos liked to be touched, while denying her the pace at which it would have been most effective. In protest Tevos reached out with her free hand, applied it to Aria's upper chest, and curled her fingernails roughly against her skin, to which Aria said in her velvety bedroom voice, "Don't tell me you'd actually prefer this to end so soon...?"

A frustrated reply of _yes_ shakily left Tevos's lips, revealing the impatience wrought by too many days spent stifling her desires. Aria might not have been aware, but her careless usage of _so soon_ had encompassed far more time than intended.

When Tevos finally adopted a tiny arch in her back and peaked, she lost herself to those moments, letting nothing invade her conscience except what pleasure she drew and savored from the fingers assertively held within her, encouraging a long and satisfying end. She was silent at first, only releasing a few shuddering breaths when the crests of each wave began to diminish, and even as she relaxed at last to enjoy the lingering heat still occupying her flesh, Aria leaned in with fingers still unwithdrawn, and inquired as to whether Tevos still craved further gratification. Her answer came in the form of a breathless and audibly shaken, "N-no, that won't be necessary."

The reply amused Aria and brought Tevos abashment.

Watching Aria dress herself from where Tevos lied comfortably on her bed, warm with fulfillment and her robe folded over her still-disheveled and opened attire beneath, was the last memory she possessed of the night. She had observed Aria donning the C-Sec armor, listening to the zipping of the undersuit as it obscured her bare back and the subsequent snapping of clasps, for as long as her consciousness allowed. At one point she found herself vaguely wishing that she had said yes to the offer Aria had made previously, wondering what luscious favors it would have entailed, but she had soon fallen asleep there with no answers to her idle speculation. Tevos only realized that Aria had long since left upon awakening early the next morning.

This time, unlike every other day spent in Aria's company, Tevos was visited by the pleasant fact that there _would_ be more opportunities to accept her tempting offers. The offer had not expired along with the night, but rather carried on intact and preserved for their next meeting. This made the entire circumstance far more enticing than it had ever been before, for not only had they tacitly revised the nature of their relationship to include certain indulgences, but they were also no longer obsessed with reckless rivalries or feuds that once made their encounters mere frustrated, confused displays of attraction fused with stubborn egotism.

Despite the comforting metamorphosis in their relationship that made way for civil and pleasant intercourse, including Aria becoming far more considerate of her, Tevos was still left to ponder a pressing question following her throughout her hurried morning regimen: was this how Aria treated partners she genuinely liked, or was this how she treated partners from whom she wanted something?

Tevos wanted to trust her, to enjoy her, but in all past dealings with Aria the councilor had accepted that she was simply _one of those people_ whose true thoughts and plans remained absurdly enigmatic for the full duration of their existence. She would've been a fool to not keep Aria under some trace amount of suspicion. But by all means, she had resolved, delighting in the benefits of Aria's company could still be done even with a rational dose of wariness in play. At least, it was what she became intent on believing.

She had been seated in her office, dressed completely, properly, and with all evidence of the night's tousling removed from her appearance when her musings were ended by Eleni contacting her to announce the arrival of 'four environmental lobbyists' who had scheduled an appointment with the asari councilor. Curiously enough, Eleni admitted to not seeing their names on the councilor's schedule until only a day ago, which was a rare and bizarre incident primarily because most approved appointments with any member of the Council were usually buffered by a waiting period of several months, and by then their secretaries would have familiarized themselves with the roster's lineup weeks in advance. Tevos told Eleni not to mind the small oversight—as she herself had already been anticipating them for some time—and had the lobbyists directed to her office.

The councilor rose from her seat and stood beside her desk when her office door disengaged and permitted a short chain of four asari to neatly file in—all dressed in midnight-hued, stately attire with handsomely tailored angles that bravely protected their images from any unwelcomed betrayals of nonsense or frivolity. Upon the left sides of their chests were pinned gleaming emblems of the group they supposedly represented, symbolized as a pair of curled green leaves cradling an orb of immaculate blue, with each form outlined in clean, thin borders of gold. Tevos offered them chairs, advising two of her guests to retrieve extras lying vacant against a wall near her minimalistic shelves. They arranged them in a single row, but did not take their seats until the councilor first took hers.

Tevos folded her hands, laying them comfortably on her desk as she began eyeing her silent sentinels in turn, observing their brightly aware eyes and their uniform stoicism. When she turned her scrutiny onto the fourth member of their group, however, Tevos felt a jolt of recognition erupt within her conscience. The asari on the end, with forested eyes and a face bearing ink delineating the classical styles of the eldest Thessian traditions, was none other than a disciple of Matriarch Benezia's whom Tevos had met once long ago, and under trying circumstances.

_It was at the negotiations with Aria, on Thessia, fifty years ago,_ Tevos recalled. _I remember her bursting headlong into that small office, bruised and bleeding from recent combat, and fearlessly drawing her weapon on Aria while demanding that she release me. My freedom was intact by then, but she was unaware. Aria was proud and resolute and terrifying, but Benezia's acolyte did not care. Aria was a legend to many, unspoiled by even the slightest touch of defeat, yet she did not care. What was her name again...?_

As much as Tevos felt compelled to verbalize her observation, she deemed it inappropriate for the situation at hand. Instead she looked downward, bringing up the document Medora had sent her and began reading off their pseudonyms in an effort to ascertain which false title had been assigned to whom.

"Damalis," she said and acknowledged the one who gave a respectful bow of her head in response to the name. "Sinara. Tavlis. And Laenia."

Benezia's acolyte was identified as Laenia; an insufficient replacement for the holes in Tevos's memory, but she deemed it a better name than none at all. With introductions more or less made, the councilor transitioned into their main priorities after a thoughtful hesitation wherein she took a moment to articulate her briefing. When Tevos was ready, she laced her fingers together and held herself with professional stature.

"The roles you will be filling in the coming weeks," Tevos began, her voice carrying uninhibited by the absolute silence her company granted her, "are of no small dimensions. You will be performing jobs designed for the most elite individuals our societies have ever seen. Actions and accompanying discretion of legendary degrees. Missions with the potential to influence the distribution of galactic power. These jobs were meant for Spectres."

No words were roused from the four asari.

Tevos continued her dour address, "If you stumble—and there must be no error—we could be facing an enormous swell of political repercussion, and possibly even find ourselves with a war on our hands in the worst case scenario. All is _very_ brittle. All is delicate and vulnerable. I do not say this with the intention of scaring or discouraging you. I say this to _prepare_ you, to make certain that you are quite familiar with the gravity of your mission and have long accepted its scheme of incredibly high risks and rewards." She paused to analyze their expressions—all unwavering masks of grim but unyielding determination. "I find myself in the difficult position of coordinating agents I have never worked with before. People whose talents and weaknesses I remain ignorant of. People whose personal ideologies, pasts, and convictions remain unknown to me. So I will tell you this now: even in light of exactly who we will be essentially preserving, there can be no hesitation. I want your complete commitment to this effort, and if you feel in your hearts any trace of doubt regarding the correctness of the path we are treading on, I must politely reject your service at this time."

There were no apparent dissidents.

"Very well," said Tevos. She brought up her omni-tool. "I want you all to join a private and secure communications channel I've opened for this project. I'm granting you all access. Please join the channel now and I will lock it. After today it will be completely inaccessible to anyone but ourselves. We will send information through this channel exclusively, and for the most sensitive matters, I will meet with one of you in private, who will then in turn act as the messenger for the other three. Is this understood?"

Nods were given as the glow of multiple omni-tools faded from sight after joining the secure channel.

"Your first objective will be given to you today, and you will deploy to your destinations by this evening. And always keep this in mind: wherever you fare in this mission, your primary loyalty will not be welcomed by either side of this conflict. For this reason, absolute secrecy and precision is imperative. No friends await you there. There are no safe houses or Citadelian bastions to seek shelter within if something goes terribly wrong. Not even the one who this operation revolves around will know of your presence. You will be, and I am sorry for this, utterly alone in your endeavors."

Tevos spent more time watching them, this time beginning to grow doubtful of their muteness and stone-like expressions being indicative of resolute focus and not the forceful suppression of fear. Her eyes met those of Benezia's acolyte, and they engaged in a stare. Despite the complete absence of words traded between them, Tevos could see that the acolyte remembered the councilor quite vividly, with that sent look also revealing her awareness of Tevos remembering _her_ in turn.

Another question struck Tevos at that moment. Why would this agent, of all people, volunteer for a mission that involved protecting someone who had physically harmed her in the past and posed as a threat to her beloved home systems? Tevos thought of the immense contempt swirling about Irissa's heart whenever she so much as heard Aria's name spoken in the slightest positive context, and she began to wonder how in the galaxy could someone emerge from an almost identical experience and go on to _pledging their life_ to the effort of keeping Aria's intact?

She felt cold for an instant, but did not let her guests see the trouble unfolding within her mind. Paranoia was trickling into her body, demanding answers to outrageous questions such as whether this entire arrangement was some sort of trap set up by High Command and implemented by Medora, who could've sent Tevos assassins instead of spies.

_Perhaps they will use this team to indict me,_ Tevos surmised. She disconnected her gaze from the acolyte's, bringing it downward to the datapad containing their pseudonyms and terribly basic dossiers. _Perhaps all that Medora has told me was false, and Aria was right in saying that none of them could be trusted._ _But this makes little sense when I consider the peripheral details. Benezia has always supported me. She has never strayed from the path of negotiation and compromise, and she applauded me for resolving the past conflict with Aria in the manner I did. If there were a plot against me, she of all people would have no part in it... Being this worried about treachery all the time has done no favors for my health. I truly think Aria's paranoia has rubbed off on me._

"For now," Tevos said, "you are dismissed. Please remain available and on the Citadel until you have received your first orders."

The four respectfully rose from their chairs and began to file out of the councilor's office. Before they could retreat back into the antechamber, however, Tevos spoke out again while standing as well. "Laenia," she said, and the owner of the false name turned around at once. "I'd like to speak with you."

She nodded and returned to stand beside the chair she previously occupied. When the office door shut, Tevos walked to the side of her desk to face the attentive acolyte, setting her datapad down and folding her hands behind her back. The civil interrogation began simply, "Your real name escapes my recollection."

Benezia's acolyte parted her lips to answer, but was halted by a reservation she immediately shared with the councilor, "It is... safe to speak here, Madam Councilor? I assumed by the vagueness of your briefing that it wasn't."

Tevos wryly nodded once. "A habit, is all. I recently had my office swept over multiple times and unfortunately I must confess that this environment is likely more secure than our private channel. Which is, I assure you, as secure as possible."

The agent hesitated, chose to place her faith in the councilor's reassurance, and politely surrendered her title, "It's Shiala, Madam Councilor."

"Ah, yes," Tevos said as her memory was patched to completion. "Aside from that detail I remember everything else. Your acts of bravery on Thessia. Specifically your brawl and stand-off with Aria T'Loak herself?"

Shiala blinked once, incisively picking up on the most probable reason why the councilor had asked her to stay behind. "Ma'am, if you would have me explain my involvement in this operation, I would do so gladly and with no resistance."

"While that has been on my mind, yes," said Tevos, "it is not the only reason why I wanted to speak with you." She turned away from the other asari, keeping her hands comfortably behind her back while pacing a few steps in thought. The sound of her heels gently clicking against the floor with each stride briefly drew Shiala's idle attention until the councilor spoke again. "As I mentioned before, your company needs a liaison, or representative, to personally relay delicate intelligence between the other operatives and myself. Because you are the only member of your group who I am familiar with in the most basic sense, and because you've already demonstrated your competency to me, I have selected you for this purpose. But since you offered, I'd also like to hear the reasons for your voluntarily involvement in this project." She turned, coming to a stop as she faced Shiala again. She offered the smallest of patient, amicable smiles while awaiting her answer.

"Well... I suppose I should start by saying that any trace of animosity or ill-will I might have felt toward Aria T'Loak was laid to rest long ago," said Shiala. "The situation has changed. There are distinct benefits from having her as master of that... mining station... whether I like her as a person or not." She paused to reflect on her commitments, glancing downward at the floor before explicating her chain of reasoning. "Matriarch Benezia always stresses letting go of pettiness to embrace life as a holistic experience, rather than viewing it as a series of separate events stitched together in time. We must learn to seek routes that take us to the best overall outcomes, while not allowing ourselves to fret too much over patches of rough terrain during the trip. And so when confronted by the question of, _what course of action will benefit the largest amount of people and cause the least amount of harm,_ my duties become quite clear to me."

Tevos momentarily turned her back to the other asari as she approached one of the wide windows of her office, surveying the serene gardens and crystalline waterways that lined avenues of travel on the Presidium. She glanced over her shoulder to ask with just a hint of humor, "It's all a completely simple matter to define, is it?"

A modest smile involuntarily found Shiala's lips when she detected the councilor's sarcasm. "With all due respect Madam Councilor, for me it was, with all things considered. I spent time studying her—Aria T'Loak. Baffling and sometimes offending myself with data about what role she plays on Omega, and within the galaxy at large. Of course I was, and still am in many respects, appalled at Omega's culture. It is a world set in motion by warlords and their businesses; capitalism, predation, and corruption running amok in their most depraved and ravenous forms. The murder rates are astronomical and wealth disparity is shocking at best. Yet there arises strange trends whenever Aria has fiscally touched something: pockets of growth and order. She's extremely well-organized and knows precisely how to tip the scales in her favor. It appears that all her employees are paid very well and the majority of them are immensely loyal despite the mortal dangers they constantly face. She befriends the wealthy individuals—owners of huge Terminus-based corporations—and has long since taken over Omega's entire element zero industry. You see... Aria T'Loak bloats her syndicate with money and power while effectively siphoning it away from all who do not stand with her in some form. She _erodes_ her opposition. She labors to present everyone with a choice between abject poverty and decay in the lowest slums of Omega, or working for her and suddenly finding themselves comfortable and in the company of an army. And what's curious of all... those who've been 'lifted' from destitution often begin to revere Aria as a savior or benefactor, and somehow forget that she was one of the forces who exacerbated their suffering in the first place."

Tevos stood in silence, awaiting Shiala's further expansion with interest. The analysis was by no means news to her, but it was nevertheless self-affirming to hear another soul draw upon the same conclusions she had made herself.

"After she's plucked them from the cusp of starvation..." Shiala resumed with a quality of minor bewilderment, "they fall in love with her. They willingly _die_ for her. She's a vicious leader with vicious tactics, but at the same time, we cannot expect anything else from that world. The way I see it, and the way Matriarch Benezia and yourself see it—if I may assume—is that if in the case Aria T'Loak is overtaken by another regime, either installed by High Command or by a purely Omegan group, this rise of new, strange order will disintegrate back into traditional factions. So I consider: what if T'Loak is left to cultivate her visions for that station? But does she even have conscious visions for it, or is her well-structured syndicate merely a result of her administrative talents? Does she intend to unite Omega under one name? We are left to wonder, what is her ambition? What does she desire? And most of all… if left uninterrupted, could her annexation of every district of Omega result in an overall heightened standard of living for its denizens?"

The councilor watched the vigilantly-eyed asari with forming disconsolation. She did her best to conceal it. "So—you ask if High Command is delusional in thinking their intervention would be Omega's 'sole savior'?"

"Precisely, ma'am. What they try to sell to themselves as a venture in philanthropy may very well eliminate what slim chance Omega has at improving. A very dark night will pass, with every hour haunted by wanton death and agony... But will some dawn arrive to introduce an era of coherent structure and prosperity, even if it's under an iron fist? It is a chance we are willing to take. Omega would certainly not get any worse—I don't see how that's even possible."

"And what if Omega never converts to this fabled uniformity?"

Shiala stood without reply, having been taken by surprise at the poignant question.

"This is what I had to ask myself at one point," Tevos said. "I had to accept the likelihood of Omega never changing, and then I had to ask myself if Aria T'Loak still remained our preferred representative of Omega, because I highly doubt she has any intentions of allowing formal government to manifest even if she does unify her station under herself."

Another span of silence tormented the younger asari before she bravely inquired, "If I may ask... why have _you_ decided to do this?"

It was a fair question, Tevos believed. There were plenty of times when she had to remind herself of the answer she had originally formulated, and had to test it against the ever-evolving present where the situation was constantly fed through kaleidoscopic complications. In the eyes of countless others, Aria was no figure to rally around. But she was with certainty the lesser evil of the few available choices Tevos had, which served as the foundation for her stance.

Occasionally, additional concerns about whether Tevos simply favored Aria due to their personal interactions still eclipsed her self-review with its foreboding black dial of worry. And recent developments in their relationship had only further aggravated that lurking menace in her mind, sprawling it out to gross, untamed dimensions that laid shadows over the entire landscape of her values.

_It now becomes a conflict of interests,_ she mused as a sharp chill descended her spine.

She expressed no sign of her dolefulness, instead inviting the operative Benezia had lent her to migrate in her direction with a small beckoning gesture. Shiala was initially wide-eyed and cautious, yet obeyed the councilor's heed without objection by walking over to the region within the office where the arrangement of sofas waited for their next rare instance of usage. Once again she waited for Tevos to take her seat first before doing the same at a respectful distance—causing Tevos to wonder if it was a specifically quantified amount of space that Shiala had consciously deemed as socially optimal for her superiors. Her posture remained uncannily geometric.

At length, Tevos crossed her legs and put Shiala's question on hold by sending back a question of her own, "Would you like to drink anything?"

The younger asari blinked, but courteously nodded. "If it isn't too much trouble, water would be perfect."

Tevos left her seat to retrieve a few small bottles from her cabinets, and when she returned after the few brief seconds she found Shiala looking awfully uncomfortable. While her exhibited manners were flattering to the prestige of her office, Tevos also saw them as unnecessarily stifling when concentrated to this degree. It was certainly one thing Tevos had come to enjoy about Irissa, or even Aria. No respectful bows of the head, no heavily-nuanced seating etiquette, and no obsequious _Madam Councilor_ s added to the ends of statements that might have come off as impolite without it. Although, it was a bit disheartening to recognize that Irissa's usage of such mannerisms had slowly increased in frequency over the past few years, now even culminating over the past week or two in the form of the occasional _Councilor_ instead of her name, as well as the emerging habit of requesting permission to speak freely before she did so. It was not yet common, but whenever it occurred Tevos felt a small but acute sting of estrangement.

As for _Aria_... she only used the title _Councilor_ often as a form of mockery; originally remarkably similar to what infamous appellation she had bestowed upon the Patriarch, but as time had brought them closer, the sneers had transformed into a teasing, almost _friendly_ jab at their ever-disintegrating formalities. Tevos knew the title—when it adorned Aria's lips—meant nothing in the way of subservience, but there were plenty of instances when she indulged in holding onto a fantasy where Aria actually meant some respect by it. Not obligatory respect given to a person with similar levels of power and intelligence, which Tevos was already delighted to have from Aria, but a respect that disclosed Aria's decision to recognize Tevos's position as universally valid and deserving of laud.

_I am evidently a woman of otherworldly greed for desiring such things from Aria_ , she thought in wry humor.

When Tevos had handed Shiala her drink, received her thanks, and returned to her seat, the councilor finally answered the question she had left hanging in the air, "I decided to offer Aria T'Loak aid in the form of intelligence solely because Asari High Command has no business infiltrating worlds over which it has no jurisdiction. It is sad to say, but we mustn't distract ourselves with the welfare of a station that does not want our pity. And we should especially refrain from attempting to do so when we _know_ High Command's motivations are more financial, or even colonial, than philanthropic; no matter how many times they've recited the contrary to convince themselves."

Shiala nodded in understanding. "Then I suppose that would give us every freedom to act selfishly. To focus on consolidating power in Aria T'Loak so that we have drastically reduced our chances of entering conflicts. I believe the last incident was about two centuries ago?"

"Yes, a relatively recent skirmish. Not directly with Omega, but with an organization of notorious corsairs allied with certain groups based on Omega. If I recall correctly, we were only engaging their fleets for three days before their alliances crumbled out of complications regarding who was truly at the helm of the assault. It was a very nerve-wracking time, with the potential of having all the entangled Terminus-based powers pulled into all-out war when their interests became threatened. I'd prefer not to revisit crises of that nature."

"If I am not out of line to comment, Madam Councilor... There are some who say the privilege of distance granted by the amenities and safety of your office has flawed your convictions about the gritty sides of reality. But that does not seem to be the case."

Tevos's brow lowered almost imperceptibly, comprehending the information. _Some say I am pliable, Aria has said,_ she thought. _Now this? Who is saying these insulting things about me?_

"Matriarch Benezia has always espoused your policies, and this time is no exception," Shiala began to elaborate. "She says your stance is subjectively moral and she expects it to be very effective."

"Subjectively?" Tevos echoed.

"Whereas objectively moral would be literally adhering to law."

"I see," the councilor delicately cleared her throat, eager to move on from that specific topic. "So, how is she; Benezia? It's been quite some time since I last interacted with her."

"She is doing well," Shiala said, eyes lighting up from being given permission to speak of her revered mentor, but their effulgence dimmed when she reported the truth, which contained a few less-than-cheerful facts. "Much better than a few years previously, when her marriage ended..."

"Yes, I'm afraid I heard something about that some time ago."

"It was a very sad time for her. She really did love Matriarch Aethyta, but... it just wasn't working. Matriarch Benezia was a bit distraught for a time, but then her daughter was born. She was like a new light come to chase all the gloom away."

Tevos canted her head ever so slightly before repeating in question, "Her daughter?"

Shiala nodded. "She was pregnant when she left Matriarch Aethyta, and Liara was born a few months later. She made Benezia so happy. She's one of the most adorable things I have ever seen—big pretty eyes, tiny hands, and all—and she's already distinguished herself as _insatiably_ curious. We had to keep a close eye on her because she held that habit of putting everything in her mouth to investigate it, for a quite a long time." She laughed softly. "Matriarch Benezia is a busy woman, so I or other acolytes watch Liara when she's away. I am assigned that duty a few times a month, on average. I remember once when I was feeding Liara a few years ago, I had turned away for just a minute to tend to a distraction, and when I returned I saw that she had pushed her bowl over the edge of her chair and was staring in great bewilderment at the mess it had created on the floor. She's grown since then of course. Now she's taken to running around the garden and collecting bruises."

"I presume your absence won't cause problems for that household?"

"My being away won't cause much disruption," Shiala responded to the councilor's passing concern. "Least of all for Benezia's daughter—I doubt she'll even remember much of me and the others by the time she's grown. Still, for the time being it's been nice being around a baby again. I haven't since I was fairly young, taking care of my younger siblings. I was the eldest, you see, by some years. I would constantly have to stand in for my mother's supervision after my father died."

Tevos paused to process the information, gently refusing back a small smile trying to find its place on her lips. Shiala's account of eldest-siblinghood had brought back vivid memories of Tevos's own sister Iona; the ever-present and unyielding force of guidance and reassurance that had seen her through her earliest days and, to remorsefully admit, occasionally a supplement for a mother who had not possessed a natural gift for understanding children. Love had never been in short supply, fortunately, but Tevos could not deny that a large portion of her raising had been a direct result of Iona's influence. Naturally, Tevos began to feel some pleasant affinity for Shiala through that correlation alone.

"I do apologize," Shiala said, rousing Tevos from her moment of reflection, "for speaking so tangentially, and about personal affairs. I'm sure you have many important things to attend to, Madam Councilor. Much more important things than listening to me gossip, that is." She offered a smile.

"It was no problem at all. Sometimes it's actually nice to hear more about domestic life. It's a refreshing reprieve from the usual discourse held in the Embassies. But, you are still correct in one respect. I think it is time we adjourned for now." As Tevos and her guest rose from their seats and departed from the sitting area of the office, she began to run through a mental checklist to discern whether all topics of importance had been sufficiently addressed. Her four new operatives had been briefed, were receiving most of their resources from Matriarch Medora and her close contacts, a private channel for communications had been opened, and they were only awaiting orders. Everything thus far was as it should've been, Tevos concluded.

_But what shall my orders be?_ she asked herself. _I do need them to closely monitor Omega's affairs, and Neora's body may no longer even exist. I could have them look into that, of course, but Aria already has her people searching, and hiding the impending results from me would grant her no opportunities for profit... Perhaps I should wait until Aria has located the author of the malicious forum post—something may arise then. But... there is also something that she's been preoccupied with since the very beginning, with no success at all, and this point of interest could indeed prove instrumental to our victory if I can provide it: Eruam Anikot. What guarantee does Aria have, that he hasn't used his former lieutenant access to preemptively arrange for his own disappearance once Aria declared him a traitor? Who can say that he has not found ways to evade the aggressive vigil of her syndicate? Who can say that he is not completely aware of his pursuers at all times? If I were to introduce agents who have never been connected to Aria's network, thus making them entirely unanticipated... it may very well increase the odds of actually finding him, and his capture would be quite a boon indeed._

"Shiala," Tevos said, halting her short escort just a few paces from the door to reign back in the other asari's attention. "I believe I may already have a task for you. I will send you the details soon, but it would be wise to inform your associates that they will likely depart by this evening."

"Yes ma'am. Would it be too imposing to ask what sort of task you had in mind?"

Tevos folded her hands behind her back again, growing silent for a few moments to piece together a response she felt would be appropriate for the present. "You will be locating someone."

"As you wish, Madam Councilor," Shiala affably accepted the information. "We may not be as exceptional and prodigious as your Spectres, but you will not be displeased by our performance. You have my word."

With a gentle smile, Tevos reached out to place her hand on Shiala's shoulder, implicitly communicating her trust—and her great need—for that promise to be kept. "Goddess be with you for this endeavor," she said as her hand returned to her side.

Her smile was returned along with a nod. Shiala then briefly raised the bottled water still carried in hand to emulate a toast to Tevos's sentiment, and said to her, "Goddess be with you as well, ma'am. And may Athame find some blessings and mercy to spare for Aria T'Loak as well during these strange days, no matter how undeserving of them she may be."

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Following the evening's end and the arrival of night, Tevos had shut herself away in her study to pour over intelligence she had collected about Omega. With no other span of time available during the day for her to do so, despite her best efforts to set some aside, the two hours preceding sleep had been conscripted into her schedule and reserved for that specific theatre of affairs. Unfortunately, by that hour the councilor was thoroughly tired from a morning spent organizing Shiala and her company, an afternoon reasoning through and dismissing troubled appeals in the Council Chamber, and an evening wading through the flood of new immigration data caused by batarian instability. With an empty cup once holding tea set at her desk's corner and the surface before her laden with datapads displaying the notes she had taken over the last month or so, Tevos persevered.

For the second time that minute she adjusted the sleeves of her night robe, yet not once did she ever take her eyes away from the list she had constructed to manage the various concurrent operations she and Aria were overseeing. From seeking out the vindictive entity responsible for using Spectre Neora against the Council (and they were also likely responsible for her death in the first place), to chasing down Aria's former lieutenant Eruam Anikot, Tevos deemed their current position an acceptable one. Aria had certainly been pleased about no longer having to play defensively, which had aggravated her immensely. But Tevos could not help but wonder if there was something more she could do while waiting to receive Shiala's reports. If she had learned anything from politicking and presiding over the more sensitive projects which deliberately evaded public notice, it was that _waiting_ remained a monotonous, inescapable, and prevalent feature of her life. Waiting for intel, waiting for appointments, and waiting for another's move in response to her own, were the most common instances. And even when involved with such a controversial and tumultuous individual like Aria T'Loak, this model of private business stood unchanged.

She pondered on their strategic upper-hand, recognizing that if the results of Aria's search yielded the location and identities of her enemy, their 'war' would almost literally come to an end at that very moment. Whoever their entity was—she and Aria had deduced—they were small. It was why they struck from the shadows, fearing that the sheer might of Aria's syndicate would crush them the instant they ventured out of hiding. It was perfectly reasonable and altogether sane of them to hold such a fear, Tevos thought. As she knew better than most, secrets of that magnitude were incredibly difficult to keep. It was only a matter of time until they would face exposure. And once discovered, Aria, like the hand of a wrathful god, would strike them within the hour and crush all they had assembled until their faction was completely exterminated from the streets of Omega.

With that doom looming over their heads, precautions and alternate plans _must_ have been in place to account for their fragility. Would Aria know how to circumvent or overwhelm invisible barricades if they were sprung up on the day she arrived at their doorstep? Albeit few in number, Tevos _knew_ Aria's enemies were clever. Since Olat Dar'nerah their operations had been worryingly sophisticated, and like that first incident many subsequent ones had employed sinister means—whether mechanical, organic, or merely elaborate hoaxes, Tevos did not know—which made her suspect they had plenty of technologies of equal or greater threat at their disposal. It went without saying that being unaware of the arsenal with which Tevos contended made her quite uneasy, and _especially_ so because said arsenal seemed to contain weapons that could be regarded as no less than crimes against nature and the sanctity of life.

In a moment of spontaneity, Tevos accessed her omni-tool and selected Aria's address as the recipient of a message. Primarily for her new agents, Tevos had been sure to update her security measures ahead of time, which was usually scheduled once or sometimes twice each month, and now held much renewed faith in the safety of her correspondences. It was an excellent opportunity to hold a conversation with Aria.

As she began keying out her message, Tevos surprised herself. But not unpleasantly so, because speaking to Aria not a single day after what happened between them did not make her anxious like she would have expected. No—she felt unprecedentedly _good_ about this for some inexplicable reason. Was it confidence, she wondered? It felt like confidence. It felt like clarity.

A message inquiring whether Aria was available to speak via vidcomm materialized beneath her fingertips. When she sent it and entered the obligatory period of waiting, as per usual, Tevos comfortably reclined in her chair, touching her fingertips together as she wondered how Aria would address her in her reply. She wondered if she would be overly smug. Tevos hoped not. They were far too old to be acting like maidens who had gone to bed with someone for the first time. After all, she believed that part of her attraction to Aria was based in the sense of experience and intuition she radiated, like a being so well-versed in the wildness and splendor of the universe that new things no longer found her gaze.

Aria responded at last, saying that she was indeed available to speak, leaving Tevos to tidy her desk, adjust the settings for the communication console, and input Aria's contact information.

Their interaction did not disappoint the councilor's expectations.

When confronted with Aria's familiar silhouette, lit up by millions of particles of light, Tevos found her seated in the armchair she had seen before. Her jacket was missing and her legs were leisurely stretched out and crossed at her ankles, leaving the heels of her boots wedged between her feet and floor. Aria seemed quite comfortable and unrushed.

_"Good evening, Councilor,"_ she greeted her in the subtly instigating tone Tevos had grown accustomed to.

Tevos was nevertheless pleased by her cordiality. "I'm glad to see my call has not inconvenienced you."

_"Oh, I wouldn't say that,"_ Aria thoughtfully said. _"I had to drop quite a bit before I could come rushing over here."_

"Aria," Tevos pressed her, seeking her genuine discourse. Although, she smiled briefly.

Aria returned the smirk and confessed, _"It's been a quiet evening."_ A considerable pause had them examining one another until Aria's voice sent the silence away, instead replacing it with words bearing underlying, provocative intent, _"So, what could you possibly need from me at this hour?"_

"I wanted to ask you if it might be wise to further discuss those strange deaths," Tevos truthfully replied.

Aria's response came in the form of an extended stare, full of rapid cognitions, calculations, and yet unanswered questions. For all the obvious evidence of thought swimming across her irises, her verbal reaction was quite concise, _"I'm working on that."_

"Yes, I'd expect it to consume a large portion of your attention," Tevos mused aloud. "However... I too am qualified to participate in that specific investigation, and happen to be very interested in doing so."

Again, Aria deliberated in the solitude of her mind. Her hesitance communicated suspicion, leading Tevos to wonder if she perhaps was feeling instinctively protective of her freedom to independently conduct certain investigations. At first, she feared Aria would retreat back into her cloister of paranoia, shutting herself off from the notice of a capable figure to hoard precious intelligence only for herself. To her unexpressed but very much present delight, Aria did not completely close herself off from the suggestion. _"What did you have in mind?"_ she calmly asked, but her eyes threatened to betray her. They were alight with scrutiny.

Tevos too abused a few second's delay before replying; spending the time articulating an honest response that would not offend Aria. It was so very difficult to open Aria up to proposals that directly conflicted with her previously-set plans, and Tevos was not about to let her believe that doing so had been a bad idea. "I think it deserves to be discussed and pondered in length," she merely said. "No glossing over facts. No more estimations. Let me put it this way: what would it be worth to you, if we happened to notice something new while examining what we have? That is all I ask. I have no intentions of commandeering any aspect of your investigation. I only think I may be of some help to you."

Aria nodded shallowly as she considered her offer. _"And what happens if we fail to find anything new?"_ she probed.

The councilor averted her gaze to briefly think, and gave a small, modest shrug. "If that becomes the case," she said, "I still doubt your time would be wholly wasted."

The vein of amusement racing across Aria's expression let Tevos know that she had navigated their discussion well. She struggled to withhold her own display of humor as Aria hummed and spoke in a volume just slightly lower than usual, _"Mm, probably not."_ She uncrossed her legs and re-crossed them, with the ankle previously resting on the other now assuming the role of support. _"I should point out that you seem less... tightly-strung,"_ she told Tevos. _"Not as much attitude."_

"Attitude?" Tevos repeated, feigning offense. "You mean periodically exercising my right to be exasperated? And particularly when _you're_ the cause?"

_"Semantics,"_ Aria gave a dismissive wave of her hand. Her faint smile remained. _"But whatever you've been doing to loosen up, I'd say keep doing it. It seems to have soothed you quite a bit."_

The comment brought warmth to Tevos's face. It assaulted her with memories of Aria's hands on her, venturing beneath her clothes. She shook herself of the thoughts and focused on the issue at hand, deciding it a good time to speak to Aria about a second item of importance. "Do you remember Matriarch Dareia?"

Aria rolled her eyes, shamelessly expressing her displeasure at the change of topic. _"Yes, unfortunately,"_ she muttered. _"She was the most vacuous of them all..."_

"Well, she too has secured a spot amongst the higher echelons of Thessia's government... And it has been brought to my attention that over the past month or so, she and others were indeed attempting to intercept some of my correspondences."

Aria noticeably paused. _"Did they get anything?"_

"No. There haven't been any breaches yet."

_"Yet,"_ Aria echoed.

"Yet," the councilor confirmed her word choice as being intentional and accurate. "It's why we need to continue with our established mode of communication."

_"I see. So in that case... when do you want me?"_

Tevos tilted her head ever so slightly at her. "I hadn't noticed that I have you at my beck and call now."

Aria was still smiling. Not quite serenely, for her face was also occupied by a subterfugal darkness that could only indicate utmost self-confidence. It cleanly and indomitably struck down any chance Tevos's presumption had of adhering to reality.

"Tomorrow evening?" Tevos proposed, leaving the quip behind.

After some thought, Aria said, _"It'll have to be after eighteen hundred hours."_

"And why is that?"

Aria smirked and nonchalantly replied, _"I found what I was looking for."_

Tevos's was intrigued. "You did? You found the author of those posts?" she asked in surprise, but her tone soon devolved into suspicion. "And just when were you planning on telling me this?"

The crime lord's smug silence on the matter informed Tevos of the necessity for the topic to be disclosed in a setting of privacy. She acquiesced, albeit reluctantly. "Well, just don't do anything too drastic yet," she told Aria. "I suppose you can tell me everything tomorrow."

Their call ended shortly after. As Tevos cleared off her desk in preparation for bed, she admittedly began to feel a bit guilty. She knew very well that arranging another meeting with Aria inevitably entailed certain indulgences after the time for business; a selfish, interpersonal indulgence when her entire focus should have been fixated on their projects. But then, she reconsidered. With all that was going on, did not they not deserve some type of compensation for their efforts? Well, perhaps excluding Aria, who was only collaborating with Tevos for personal gain and security while the councilor had agreed to their partnership in the pursuit of peace-eras.

By the time Tevos had completed her pre-sleep routine and came to stop at her bedside, merely finding herself standing there in the soothing darkness, she had become deeply enveloped in her thoughts. Her arms had idly come to drape about herself, and her eyes just as unconsciously devoured the rich shadows pooling in the creases of her sheets. She thought of how Aria had been in the spot she studied during the previous night, making her feel marvelous.

She wondered if history would repeat itself a day from the present, and if it would continue in that pattern. Transforming this place of general solitude into a loft for desired company, where base natures were no longer touched by the strict hands of her office and its suffocating, restrictive jurisdictions. This place would be uncompromisingly _alive_ for once. The very thought pleased her endlessly, as did the promise of having Aria within reach. It was both exhilarating and comforting—a strange but delightful mix, she felt—to think about folding her legs around Aria's waist, maybe, or holding Aria's face and sealing their lips together to drown out the arrogant comments that periodically fitted her voice. It felt like a sleepless dream.


	17. Placing Trust

Tevos had begun rhythmically tapping her fingertips onto her chair's arm once her wait had accumulated just enough minutes to verge on unreasonable. Periodically she glanced past the frame of her study's open door, peering at the closed one leading into her bedroom, and held the sight of its motionless barrier in contempt.

Several minutes ago, Tevos had opened her kitchen window to admit Aria into her home. Like her previous visits Aria slipped into the darkness of the councilor's abode with near-alarming degrees of subtlety and silence and wasted no time stripping her limbs and chest clean of the combat-issue C-Sec armor plating, eager to be rid of its weight and insipid emblems. But this time, her grievances had extended beyond just the outer armor, and now included the black undersuit as well, which according to Aria was too much of a nuisance to tolerate for a night or two per week. In resolution—after obtaining something resembling permission from the councilor, more or less—Aria disappeared into her bedroom to swap the undersuit for a few articles of her usual attire.

But enough time had elapsed to accommodate _several_ wardrobe changes. Tevos began to seriously consider approaching her door to remind Aria that they were indeed on a time budget, but her guest emerged before she could act at all.

When Tevos saw one of her favorite leisure shirts of serenely white, simply-cut, and soothingly comfortable material pulled over Aria's torso, she admittedly did not know whether to scold her and try to send her back to change again, or to laugh. While it wasn't difficult to imagine that perhaps Aria's corset was less comfortable than various tempting clothing articles just within reach, Tevos continued to be perplexed by Aria's sense of quasi-entitlement to everything in her surroundings. Tevos recognized in fairness that she couldn't see herself spitefully objecting to lending Aria the shirt if she had asked, but not asking at all had brought several multi-toned permutations of _how dare she_ to mind.

Aria joined the councilor in the implicitly-assigned armchair adjacent from hers, whose angling was such that two pairs of legs would orthogonally meet if extended fully. If she had looked, Aria would have found that Tevos had turned a highly questioning gaze upon her. She merely settled in without a glance, laying her forearms along the arms of the chair and raising one leg to rest her ankle on the other, just above the knee so the daunting heel of her boot pointed away from her host. Once comfortable, Aria finally turned to find Tevos's perturbed expression but did not seem surprised to see it. She lifted a brow, trading one inquiring look for another. Neither was addressed.

"I have some... less than satisfactory news," said Aria. "There have been last-minute changes to the operation we're interested in. I had to talk to some of my teams and rearrange their orders so we could stay on schedule. Nothing I couldn't fix, of course."

"Of course," Tevos agreed.

Aria only paused to leer for a few seconds, suspicious of sarcasm.

"So what happened?" asked Tevos. "You haven't told me about the operation as it was meant to be in the first place."

Aria audibly exhaled, folded her hands together, and laid them both on a single arm of the chair as she pivoted herself more so in the direction of Tevos with a quick adjustment of her legs and waist. With their full attention mutually shared between one another, Aria spoke quite frankly, "My plan originally called for two specific teams to visit our newly-acquired target under the pretense of friendship. One team would go in pretending to be allies, perform reconnaissance, and leave various bugs on the premises so I can continue closely monitoring activities there. The other team would manage gathered intel and provide some security for the ones down on the streets."

Tevos nodded in comprehension and also paused to slightly reorient herself, increasing her general alignment with Aria to express genuine interest in her answers. "If you would, tell me about this... new target. How did you isolate them from other suspects?"

"Files extracted during our operation on Sur'Kesh led me to the lower Gozu District as the source of our little expositive forum post, and from there, a bloc of several apartment complexes sharing the same extranet service area." Aria accessed her omni-tool, deftly navigating its interface until she retrieved the file she sought and flicked it onto the councilor's monitor. It, having been given permission to communicate with Aria's omni-tool during their first rendezvous, accepted the file and blinked on to play the recorded vid to the room. The vid depicted a busy Omegan street. People ceaselessly passed through the field of view, occasionally obscuring the entire screen as they hurried past whoever was the original capturer of the scene, but almost invariably was the familiar dour peak of Afterlife seen looming in the upper left corner with its grandiose sconces flickering along with the hologram adverts. Amid the chaotic bustle Tevos discovered the focus of the commotion, the purpose of the vid. An asari and her salarian companion stood on the edge of the walkway and its traffic, calling out to passers-by and waving datapads in the air as they vied for attention. Rarely did someone actually stop to receive a digital copy of the pamphlets they were distributing, but the pair's efforts were not dampened by unpopularity. They persisted, vocal and confident in their message. Conveniently, the vid's audio was enhanced just enough for Tevos to pick out stray statements made by the two.

_"Her cruelty, her greed... We deserve something more than a self-consumed, pseudo-monarch siphoning off every last drop of our wealth and dignity... fate of Omega isn't sealed... can still bring about change! Things will change if the people will it! Just imagine a... where we no longer have to shrink away from the wrath of tyrants... gangs no longer control our credits and homes... Please... read our manifesto and consider what we're saying here..."_

After several minutes of delineating their purpose and goals, the duo were approached by two batarians diverging from the street. A gun was abruptly drawn from one of their hips and aggressively pressed to the salarian's forehead. They exchanged tense words, and before long the asari and salarian had shakily gathered up their datapads and escaped the scene without further incident.

Tevos sat pensively tapping a finger against the side of her chin when the recording ended. To her left, Aria was already prepared to elaborate on the vid.

"This was several years ago," Aria stated. "The asari's name is Kiava Vathesa and the Lystheni salarian goes by the singular name of Eshedra. I've been watching them ever since they first tried spitting their diatribe at me. I only keep my hands off them because it'd be a waste of time and energy, and I'd rather keep tapping their communications to see who their friends are and what they're up to. Until now all they've done is pathetically flail around and unwittingly feed me useful information."

Although she successfully absorbed the names and convictions of their targets, Tevos remained transfixed on one fine detail she had gleaned from the vid. Slowly she tore herself away from the final frozen frame on the monitor, and faced Aria with perplexed distraction in her eyes. "Were those your mercenaries? Do you censor speech on Omega?"

The derailment of the conversation alone gave Aria good cause to roll her eyes, but she might have restrained herself if the councilor's question hadn't also contained a unique accusation. She gestured to the paused frame of the vid still held in place by the monitor. "You think I did this? That I believed something like this was a wise expenditure of my time?" She shook her head and intensely looked away. "It doesn't work like that. You walk deep into my territory where I'm very, _very_ well-liked, and you start throwing vitriol at me, you're bound to offend a few people. I don't have to police stupidity. It polices itself well enough."

"Well if they're so deeply involved in this stratagem against you I'd put a lot of doubt in the idea of them being stupid."

Aria was severely unamused by the comment. "Simply that the forum post came from their bloc does _not_ mean they were the ones responsible. For all we know, someone deliberately used their extranet service zone to throw me off their trail. This is why I wanted reconnaissance and a reinforced tap into their communications."

Tevos resumed her pensive habit of delicately tapping the side of her chin with a fingertip. "And... something apparently went wrong with that plan's execution?" She glanced over at Aria again, her index finger now resting idle against her jaw.

A single nod was given in reply. "I wanted to send team Vatar in and have Sehtor wait within the area for technical support and backup, if warranted. Sehtor has proven to be the most effective team at my disposal thus far into this project, and one of its members is a double-agent I've used for several years now to keep tabs on Vathesa and Eshedra. But earlier today, the other team they were supposed to collaborate with, Vatar, uncovered something very concerning: while spying on the rich proprietor of one of the remaining syndicates in the Zeta District, Drialus Lorhan, they found that he'd been in recent contact with a turian primarch." When a hint of shock flashed across the councilor's features, Aria acridly explained, "We don't know who he's been talking to, exactly. Yes, it could just be another case of bribing politicians to streamline smuggling... or it could be something more. With Asari High Command trying to get their greedy, lying hands on Omega, I wouldn't dismiss this as unimportant. I _need_ Vatar working on this lead, investing their complete efforts in pursuing it until we know precisely what's going on."

The stunned expression never quite faded from Tevos's face. She stared at Aria; weary, overwhelmed, and speechless at the idea of opening an entirely new theatre in their battlefront. She could do nothing but permit Aria to keep speaking, in vain hopes that the other asari's further elaboration would correct what obviously seemed to be a wild falsehood or misinterpretation of intelligence. Nothing of the sort ever came, leaving her to continue praying for an unrelated coincidence.

"And with Vatar occupied," Aria continued, "there aren't many available teams left. Most have already committed to specific tasks and investigations, and I'm no longer holding their hands through them. That was my original design: to assemble a multitude of squads whose ultimate purpose would be finding, focusing on, and dissecting persons and events of interest to the bone. I set them on courses, gave them plentiful opportunities, and they would respond by fixating on an issue and sending me back highly detailed reports to add to my collage of intel. With so many units turning over every stone in their areas of operation, I would obtain the most complete portrait of the battlefield. There comes a point when I should no longer have to spend time micromanaging their every move. I designed units that can operate by themselves and still perform to my expectations."

Tevos pondered the information for a while before voicing an observation, "You're using them like I use my Spectres. Setting them loose, supplying them from afar, setting few constraints, and awaiting their reports."

Aria tilted her chin a few degrees upward at the comparison. "Like your Spectres," she scrupulously echoed as if to test whether the notion diminished her agents or herself, but her tone did little to explicitly confirm it as accurate or not. "The problem I'm facing is who's left to assume the spy job. Out of remaining candidates, only team Eingana has enough collective experience to take this on. And it's nowhere near enough experience to make me comfortable with the prospect of sending _them_."

The councilor consulted her good memory to recall the individuals team Eingana comprised. "Eingana was the turian, batarian, and young asari, correct?"

"Eingana is... competent," Aria chose her words carefully, "but not ideal for the task. Not ideal at all. They weren't intended to get involved with anything of this caliber."

As Aria contemplatively canted her head and propped herself on a pair of fingers placed at her temple, Tevos studied her posture in all its discontent; the sheen of annoyance in her irises, the occasional and terse bouts of tapping her heel against the floor... and Tevos developed more questions for her yet. For every question Aria answered, it seemed, at least two more would rush forth to take its place. "So you fundamentally drafted one of your capable spies, a seasoned former batarian pirate, and a biotic prodigy into a team that wasn't intended to contribute anything significant? Isn't that a terrible waste of resources?"

Aria hesitated a split second too long for it to go unnoticed. Her fingers curled into a loose, unclenched fist when she removed them from her head to address Tevos. "It's not that simple. Eingana was assembled for the purpose of security. They were never meant to invest themselves in more intensive missions, just peripheral support. You read their files. You know two of them were closely related to assassinated persons of import and they've encountered many personal setbacks as a result of the deaths. Eingana is the least likely to betray me and I can depend on their reports. I want to keep them _alive_. They'll be vital when another team deserts. Because someone will, eventually, and I'll be ready to use them when it happens." The look Tevos gave her inspired Aria to ask, "You think I'm paranoid?"

"A bit, at times," Tevos admitted and immediately regretted not holding her tongue. The comment had certainly seized Aria's utmost attention. "You _are_ paranoid, Aria, even if it's somewhat appropriate in this particular situation."

_You won't even tell me everything I need to know,_ Tevos thought when she took a moment's pause to exchange a stare with Aria. She was captious. Aria was annoyed with the cross-examination, that much was obvious. It was to her as if inquiry was insult, as if proper investigation and shrewd review violated basic laws of what was appropriate to lay as a burden upon Aria T'Loak's shoulders. _I look at you and I can see dozens of secrets clouding your eyes. You don't look away to hide your guardianship but you stare directly at me in blatant, unashamed refusal. Why? Why remain so stubborn? How many times do we have to go through this?_

"You're still excessively distrustful of me," Tevos said, feeling a twinge of impatience and even anger with her, "no matter how many times I prove to be reliable. Whenever I extend my hand to you I have to spend several minutes convincing you to take it. I wish you would trust me more," she honestly stated. "More readily. Have I not given you enough reason to by now?"

Aria leaned in a tad closer, lowering her voice. "And just how much do _you_ trust _me?_ "

Tevos's voice decreased in an equal amount of volume as she gave a politician's answer, "...More than I did previously."

"But not very _readily?_ Isn't that an interesting coincidence?"

The councilor responded immediately, doubting that their individual circumstances could be judged under identical criteria. "How could you ever expect me to—"

"Trust someone like me?" Aria cut her off. "As if a _politician_ is more inclined to keep her word—"

"Stop," Tevos suddenly returned the interruption. She knew those words far too well. They were a prelude to a war they had already fought many times before, and the inevitable anticlimactic stalemate that would arise after hours spent bristling had been rudely and permanently sewn into her memory. Such arguments were supposed to be a thing of the distant past, a vision into a primitive era when the products of their collaboration had been insignificant if not abysmal. Her hand was already gravitating toward her temple in exasperation. _I don't want to do this anymore,_ she thought, hoping Aria could read just that much into her private cognitions. _I don't want to regress back to that. I don't want to do that ever again._

"Listen to me for a moment," said the councilor. She spoke gently, despite the immense unlikelihood of hurting Aria's feelings if she didn't. "I don't expect you to tell me all your secrets. Goddess knows you have them, and will never share them with another soul for as long as you live. And I have _my_ secrets. You already know I do, and I think we need to come to terms with this. We need to accept that although we will never have the luxury nor desire to be completely open with one another, that and whether we can trust each other are not mutually exclusive. I have told you things about my government that causes me to lie awake in fear some nights. On a few occasions, _you_ have essentially laid your life in my hands by giving me, in completion, access to the countless people who keep your syndicate functioning on the large scale it now occupies. How do you see this, Aria? Do you see it as a true, stable alliance? Or do you just see us as having knives held at each other's throats?"

Aria folded her hands over one knee, not once looking away from Tevos or altering her staid expression while gathering an answer. "It's not really trust unless it's a bit of both."

"Is that what trust is to you?" Tevos asked her, but did not allow her gaze to linger against hers long enough to receive a reply. She frigidly smoothed her hands over a wrinkled portion of her sleeve and tapped her foot several times. On her left, Aria sat unaffected by her decline in mood and disapprovingly awaited the time when her frustration would thaw enough to return to their talks. Tevos could feel her stare, but dwelling on that intuitive sense only made her chagrin increase. "Goddess, Aria..." She shook her head in disbelief, then lowered her voice. "I... I _slept_ with you." What a strange combination of words to utter to someone like Aria, Tevos thought. "And yet you're wary as ever around me."

Aria didn't respond, once again exercising her self-endowed right to refuse explaining her own actions.

The councilor abruptly rose from her chair, struck by the idea of a possible route to resolution. "Come with me," she ordered as she looked down at where Aria still statuesquely sat. When the expected occurred—Aria remaining unimpressed by the command and maintaining her static position—Tevos lowered her eyes to where Aria's hand rested on the chair's arm, and she reached out to it. She grasped the lengths of her fingers first, using them to deftly migrate her hold to a more secure grip around her hand, and pulled once. Only after a second insistent attempt was Aria successfully removed from her seat, although never once breaking eye contact with Tevos as they stood at equal level.

"Follow me," Tevos instructed her, urging her toward the study's doorway. "It's in your best interest to see what I want to show you."

Aria was born a leader, Tevos knew. It was in her genes, in her _soul_. Every piece of her had been designed by the unseen forces of the universe to fulfill a specific void where armies cried out for something more than potent commanders: monolithic harbingers of new eras. Undaunted figures of legendary stature who escaped their very flesh to become great icons of raw force and power, with names that made all the people of the galaxy tremble whenever they were bravely invoked.

Aria did not defer. She did not take orders. She did not falter in the face of insurgence nor authoritative challenge, and she would make no exception for anyone. When she decided to follow the asari councilor it was on her own terms, which stood in favor of obtaining knowledge about what Tevos intended to show her.

But Tevos knew this would be the outcome in the end. Aria was the hungry sort, with a strong appetite for advantageous intelligence and an even stronger drive to keep it satiated. She would follow her wherever she led, in search of that resource. Beyond the confines of her study, down the elusive volute stairs that Aria had eyed on previous nights but never descended until now, and into unlit spaces where a modest cache of secrets lied. With her fingertips lightly skirting along the walls as she guided them onto a floor where windows enclosed too much wall-space to risk the lights, Tevos began to wonder if manipulation was just a command obeyed under another name.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Nestled in a forlorn alcove hewn into the towers, team Eingana loitered in silence. The atmosphere was only filled by the gentle hums of power and air recycling units populating their hiding spot, and the distant drone of skycar traffic curving round the bend of the building far above their location. Below and across a narrow street stood their target: a drab, bare, and industrial in appearance due to the absence of anything resembling a proper, polished facade. Such was the mien of countless other buildings in this region of the lower Gozu District, however. It was cheap housing, Rasma had told them. Hundreds of apartment complexes erected side by side in columns, connected by dim, perilous tunnels, hazardously winding stairs, and elevators that occasionally stuttered and flickered their lights during use. The area was of dense population and consequentially cramped living conditions. Just by peering over the perforated metal railing at her back and gazing down at the gaunt buildings below their position, Liselle could begin to detect the almost palpable mist of claustrophobia and destitution that settled over the bloc like a thick layer of dust accumulated through apathy and neglect. She preferred not to gaze for too long.

When returning her attention to the miniature yard, Liselle found her two teammates exactly as they had been before: Malak pacing back and forth with a pistol dangling listlessly in one hand, and Rasma situated behind an air recycling unit, using a visor's binocular feature to obsessively spy on any who entered or exited the building housing their objective. They were not to proceed until they were joined by team Sehtor, as was explicitly stated in Aria's orders received earlier that day. This mission was both delicate and imperative, Aria had said, and would require the efforts of two cooperating teams instead of the usual one.

Liselle held a hand over her mouth as she yawned, then rubbed the faint circle beneath her left eye with the side of her index finger. Between the fiasco with the dancers and the meeting with Wasea, she had lost several hours of sleep and was still enduring the mildly-throbbing headache she had contracted that morning. With a bored sigh she turned her head to peer through the railing again, and brought herself facing forward again when she found that little had changed in the scenery. For a while she sat there with a hand in one of her pockets, fingers secured around the paper note Wasea handed her. On occasion she would pull it out, unfold it, and read its contents multiple times as if she expected _them_ to change, if her surroundings did not. She read it so frequently, that only a few hours after receiving it, Liselle could recall every word verbatim and if she ever lost this sole copy of the information, it would cause her no inconvenience at all.

She thought of Wasea for several minutes, musing about how dreadfully bad the Eclipse officer was at making friends even when she sincerely wanted them. From what Liselle gathered, that asari imposed so few checks over her own frustrations that she simply could not help but retaliating whenever someone offended her, regardless of who they were. Thus she probably drove most away through a flurry of _fucking this_ and _fucking that_ , perhaps blind to consequence until much after her disastrous behavior had run its course. Evidently, interactions during first impressions or business transactions would shape their entire relationship, for good or ill, and most likely deferring to either end of that dichotomy. If this was an accurate observation on Liselle's part, it did not bode well for future encounters.

The muffled tapping of metal on metal, reverberating upward and in their direction, had team Eingana stirring out of their hibernation. Malak held back in the shadows with both hands securely readying his heavy pistol, while Rasma strode toward the railing, motioned for Liselle to rise, and stood at the peak of the ladder where those who were currently ascending would eventually emerge. If their visitors were Sehtor, they would be welcomed. If they were not... it was unclear what would precisely happen in that circumstance, but Liselle nevertheless removed her submachine gun from her belt and stood strategically across from Malak in preparation for the unknown.

The first sight of their visitors was the modest, gray-brown protrusions of the cartilaginous flesh atop the head that announced the arrival of a salarian. Armored hands found support on the ladder's final step, then the railing, before pulling himself up into the spire's median and giving an acknowledging nod to Rasma. His sharp eyes quickly found both Liselle and Malak in the darkness. When he stepped aside a second individual hoisted herself into their midst with the aid of the impossibly long limbs of a drell; as solemn and severe in countenance as Liselle had become accustomed to seeing in her people. Then came the turian, quick and sure and confident as he added himself to their company, with the darkest pigments of color Liselle had ever seen in turian eyes and with all traces of heraldry and declared colony absent from his carapaced face.

"Team Sehtor," he candidly said, extending a hand to Rasma.

She took it and responded with a reciprocated, "Rasma Visiom, commander of the Eingana unit."

Almost immediately, the other two members of Sehtor had begun removing various items carried on their backs and placing them around the tiny alcove; tactical rifle bipods, transmission amplifiers, and slim computer consoles promptly blinking on when activated.

"Since we're going to be working with each other today," said the turian leader of team Sehtor, "some introductions are necessary. This is Saerirn, the man in charge of most of our tech." he gestured to the salarian, whose attention was currently occupied with getting his console to run multiple programs simultaneously, and in synchronization. Saerirn only briefly lifted his eyes at the mention of his name, and was back to work again in an instant. "And over there is Hiral. If she can see it, she can kill it for you."

"Which might be an achievement _here,_ but it's the bare minimum back on Kahje for those in my line of work." Hiral was fitting the end of a sniper rifle through the perforated gate. She angled it toward the streets and looked through the scope to ensure she had established an effective field of view. "Hanar politics have never seen a more exciting era."

The turian reached out to Malak, who was gradually wandering away from the equipment Sehtor was swiftly setting up in commandeered space. They shook hands as the turian introduced himself, "I'm Telycialux Daus, in command of team Sehtor by Aria's appointment." Nearby, Liselle noticed the plates of Rasma's brow angling downward in what appeared to be... disdain.

"Daus, then," Malak wryly concluded, folding his arms across his chest once his hand was released.

"Daus is fine," he replied, seeming vaguely amused. "Anyway, I hope Aria informed you all about the arrangements to be made for this mission. I know it was short notice since Vatar was originally supposed to meet us, but Aria spoke well of you so I'm not too worried about how things will go today. I only hope it doesn't come as a surprise or cause any personal issues when I assume command of Eingana for the duration of this operation."

"We were informed," Rasma abruptly told him. The tightness with which she held her jaw infected her words with curtness. If Daus had picked up on her frustration, which he likely had, he did not press the matter.

At first, Liselle failed to locate the source of Rasma's ire. She had never been one to assert her authority until provoked, and an even _greater_ truth than that was her complete deference to Aria's commands. To take issue with the terms of this mission was to take issue with Aria, surely she realized. That much was visible in her self-restraint. It must not have been the loss of authority that brought her anger, Liselle deduced. There was something about Daus which she particularly loathed, and this remained a mystery only up until the point when Daus turned to Liselle and extended his hand to offer her the same courtesy he had for the other constituents of her team. She was honestly surprised to see his interest in greeting her, after having become so accustomed to dismissal from the very moment when Eingana was formed. Most saw her inexperience right through her lies (especially people belonging to long-lived races), and they belittled or patronized her after learning that Liselle did not belong as much as she should have.

But this turian man was not an apparent sponsor of haughtiness. For the first time in years, as Liselle took his hand, she felt adequately respected. At that instant she recognized what composed their common ground and the reason why Rasma was unhappy: Daus's life did not yet bear the weathered notches of years on the job. He was young, the composition of his still-smooth face plates claimed. Somewhere between his second and third decade of life, and probably closer to the former than the latter. And Rasma, originally hailing from a society where rank was strictly derived from seniority and merit, found her relief and Daus's temporary promotion to be... offensive.

Liselle in no way shared her disapproval. On the contrary she was impressed, or struck with a sudden surge of raw ambition. For if someone of his age could command teams, lead operations, and win the favor of his superiors, so could she. It was an inspiring realization, to see there _were_ ways in which pure confidence and competence could be wielded in substitution of experience, and to see this skill shutting the jaws of those who would readily object.

"All right," said Daus, "let's get started. Visiom, if you don't mind I'd like you to stay up here with the monitoring team. Aria says you're good with tech and I need us all where we're at our best. Lekahn, Kasantis, and I will head in to meet our target. I've been paying them visits for a few years now and they're comfortable with me enough to accept friends I might bring with me. Sync your comms and transponders, cloak your signals, and go light on the weapons. Remember, we're not shooting anyone today. Not our job. _Today_ we're defectors looking to join up with Eshedra and Vathesa and help spread their propaganda." He removed an assault rifle from his back, leaving it propped up against the perforated gate. Liselle and Malak similarly disarmed down to their lightest arms. "Monitoring team needs to make sure the bugs are up and running once we place them and keep an eye out for trouble. When we're all set up in there go ahead and pass on the transmission frequencies to Aria and she'll link them up to the network."

From where she stood leaning against a power unit, Hiral asked, "How long do you think this will take? A few hours?"

"A few hours, ideally. If longer, we'll just have to deal with it." Daus strode over to the ladder, preparing to descend to the street of their destination with Malak and Liselle in tow. When he laid his hands on the railing, he paused and turned back. "Remember, if we're comprised, we spill blood. Call in back up and eliminate everyone inside, but try to preserve any pieces of tech they have. Aria would want those."

"Understood," confirmed Hiral.

Once briefed and prepared, Daus led Liselle and Malak down the long ladder bolted to the side of the spire. In the dismal light they descended into the valleys of a forgotten region, where metal groaned woefully beneath the weight of their feet but did not give out, where each steel-toed step sounded like the shell of an antique bullet meeting the ground, divorced from the atrocity of audible gunfire.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

When they reached the base of the stairs, Aria was met by a fractional view of the Presidium granted by the large window pane simultaneously serving as a wall. Between the sections of shutters she could glimpse lights from the walkways glittering on the waters and the endlessly sloping tiers of buildings flickering like stars in the blue night. Despite the general usual antipathy Aria had for the Citadel, she did not deny that the panorama was well-framed by the careful planning of the original architect and inevitably pleasant in its full glory. The view was a wealthy woman's luxury, and she might have stayed longer to indulge her curiosity further if she did not already have business with the councilor.

Tevos's lead brought them into a locked room, partitioned off inconspicuously, where the absence of furniture was abated by glass-paned cabinets and cases where valuables—inherited, purchased, or otherwise gifted—slept protected on polished shelves and dark velvet beds. These sentimental treasures were ignored. Leaving Aria to stand waiting and observing, Tevos knelt before the table situated against the back of the room, reached beneath it, and with a barely-audible click of a disengaging lock undoubtedly activated in response to an ID-key, she pulled out a drawer previously sealed into the very wall. She thumbed through the few slots until removing a holodisk from an alpha-numerically labelled tab, rose back to her full height, and held out the item for Aria to see as if the other asari already had some preemptive awareness of what it contained.

After pausing to close and lock the drawer again they left the room, emerging into the area surrounded by the Presidium vista and took seats in witness to it. They sat together on a couch, both focusing on the interface mounted in the low table in front of them lighting up once the holodisk was inserted and its files exposed.

"This," Councilor Tevos began as she sifted through the data, "is the archived intelligence I had gathered many years ago. About you."

Garishly displayed on the console was a collection of still-frames and shorts vids, all depicting Aria. Tevos abdicated her management of them to allow Aria to sift through them herself, and she did with immense interest. She flicked her fingers over the glass over and over, passing by images dating back as much as three centuries. There were her exploits, transcending lives back into territory and personas she labored to bury. There she was crystallized in time, standing in a dimly-lit bay, leaning against railing with smugly folded arms and a fearsome warship docked beyond the window behind her. At that particular image Aria stopped and reclined in her chair again, appearing more irate than anything else.

"I had people tirelessly scouring the extranet and our networks for this," Tevos said to her. "We needed to know who you were, what and where you had been. At the time we were terrified of the possibility of war, Aria. We were arming ourselves against you, and even as we desperately tried to there was still very little about you to be found anywhere. Aria, Aleena, Adona. Those are all who we ever recovered. In that picture, at the docking bay..." She gestured it and glanced back at Aria to make sure she was looking at what was being indicated. "That was an asari named Adona. She was the commander of a small, notorious pirate fleet in the Terminus Systems, but her fleet was eventually obliterated. She was raiding the trade routes of a private company based in the Attican Traverse by ambushing them at relays, and they retaliated by sending in their defenses instead of a cargo ship one day. Adona, along with her entire fleet, was presumed dead."

"An error in information, probably," Aria dismissively commented. "That's all it takes sometimes."

"Several years later," Tevos continued, "a mercenary's name is suddenly on the lips of powerful Terminus warlords who have untouchable enemies. Aleena is a galaxy-class bounty hunter with riches and reputation. One day she takes a routine bounty... and never returns."

"Good riddance. I already have to deal with plenty of nuisances like that disrupting business."

Tevos condemned her obvious deflections. "I know these people were you, Aria. Look at their faces." She enhanced one of the images as irrefutable proof, and gazed at the asari glowing on the console without checking if Aria's attention held the same focus. The eyes, nose, lips... it could simply be no other, as was the conclusion drawn by the people who had procured the image for the asari councilor in the first place. "No," she quietly began, already judging herself as correct but finding little harm in taking the opportunity to provoke Aria, "I suppose you may be right, Aria. This is a very handsome individual and I would not be surprised if people regarded her as attractive and lovely. This could never be you."

When she turned to eagerly discover what expression she had brought to Aria's face, Tevos was pleasantly surprised to see a small smile and hear a laugh of equal restraint. The councilor reflexively smiled in return, glad that her sense of humor still had a healthy soul. She watched the eerie pale light cast by the images cradle Aria's jaw and outline facial evidence of her amusement, until her expression receded back into its default state.

They were quiet for some time after. Aria would not issue a confession, and Tevos would be disappointed if she seriously anticipated one. So she merely pondered aloud, for her own catharsis and for Aria's benefit, "I wonder why you're so obsessed with hiding who you were. Are you concerned for the well-being of relatives? Are you self-conscious about your failures, and is that why you'd rather die and reincarnate into something new than carry on the burden of an imperfect identity? Are you trying throughout time, starting over and over and over again, until you've attained a life you can describe as ideal?"

Aria said nothing.

"If you have no answers for me thus far," said Tevos, "all I ask is the answer to this: do you plan to become someone else again in the future?"

"Will you keep tabs on me if I do?"

"Likely," the councilor quipped, then grew a bit solemn again. "It's a strange thing, to not know your real name. Everything before this was just a dream, as you'd have everyone believe."

Aria turned her head a few degrees in Tevos's direction, voice lowering in dissatisfaction at the inference. "You do know my real name," she said. " _This_ is my only name."

"But those people," Tevos objected. "They were still _you_ at some point in time."

"Those people are dead," said Aria. "And I'm not, last time I checked. It's a moot point. Which brings me to the question... What was your point in showing me this?"

Tevos did not verbally reply. She turned off the console, allowing darkness to flood the room once more, and had the holodisk ejected. Once it was safely in hand, Tevos held it out to Aria, who merely raised a brow in question.

"It's yours," Tevos told her. When Aria continued to eye her strangely, she clarified her intentions. "It's the sole copy. Well, the only copy I know to exist. Hide it, destroy it, whatever you like."

Understanding melted Aria's incertitude. "You're trying to convince me to trust you."

Tevos nodded, finding no logical reason to deny it.

A small scoff. "I'd be stupid to believe it's the only copy, even if you honestly think it is. Keep it."

"I no longer have a need for it," Tevos insisted. "And if I should ever develop one... Then I've failed."

"No," Aria flatly repeated. She laid her hands on the sofa cushion, preparing to push herself up from her seat.

Tevos caught her arm before she could rise. "I need you to take it. This is for me as much as it's supposed to be for you."

Aria gave a short, irritated exhale at Tevos's persistence. In resolution she reached out, enclosed the holodisk with her hand... and folded the councilor's fingers back over it. Her hand remained secured over her statement of refusal even as Tevos began to icily leer at her.

"Then this should mean more," said Aria.

Though concise and somewhat distant, her words pressed down on Tevos's chest with the incomprehensible weight of sheer meaning.

It had always been a point of fascination for Tevos, how Aria managed to construct so much from so few resources. Her words were scarce and her actions taken toward the reinforcement of their trust had been minimal at best, but one sentence, fleeting through the air for but a moment, had possibly outdone all that Tevos attempted. Was bravery, pride, or a sense of security responsible for her decision to let Tevos keep so much damning information about her?

It was the aforementioned proverbial knife, removed from her throat and its grip presented for Aria to freely take, yet she would not remove the blade from Tevos's possession. Perhaps the answer lied in Aria's perception of the situation, where trust was defined as the sanctuary found between mutually assured destruction. To remove the knife from play would effectively void the entire apparatus and launch them spinning downward as balance unraveled.

When Aria tried to rise again, this time Tevos not only allowed her, but followed to accompany her back to the main floor of her apartment. Much of her was saddened that they would be viewing each other's presence through a filter of war and not peace. But some other part of her, tucked away with her foolish hopes and fancies, decided that if Aria had been of more amenable and approachable disposition, she might have endeavored to link her arm with hers in wordless reassurance; to communicate that their situation was not in vain nor was it irreparable. They were not at odds, and they were not beholden to one another. They were voluntarily joined by similar interest and unfortunate circumstance, and their unification need not be a reluctant or unpleasant one.

Instead she traveled close to her for use of an anchor in the darkness, upper arms brushing as they walked abreast. And despite the ample room Aria had on her other side, she did not claim it. She remained in proximity as they navigated the stairs, and did not appear to be suffering any discomfort while doing so.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

The first pair of boots made contact with the grimy back alley, evading piles of defunct electronics and an abandoned section of a skycar chassis. Behind Daus, Liselle and Malak followed, dropping down once reaching the end of the ladder that left a short distance of space between them and the street.

"Hiral, can you hear us?" Daus asked aloud. A pause, during which he awaited his teammate's response. "Good. You see everything fine...? All right, we're good. We'll be giving you a feed the whole time. Watch our backs, okay?" He turned to Malak and Liselle. "Kasantis, your name is unknown so it's safe to use. Lekahn, on the other hand... you'll need something more discreet."

"I figured I would," Malak said. He dusted his hands together to remove the metallic film from the palms of his gloves. "Vikra Estam," he supplied with such expediency that sent Daus's brow upward.

"You use that name often?" he asked Malak. "Not often enough for anyone around here to know it, I'd hope."

They began heading out of the alley, soon to emerge on a street capacious in comparison, despite its breadth barely accommodating traffic equivalent to two skycars wide.

"Don't worry about it," Malak tritely reassured him. "So... Daus... what do you do?"

"What do I do?" The question seemed to amuse him.

"Yeah. Aptitudes, connections, past jobs...?"

He shrugged. "I've done a lot of spying for Aria. I can make improvised explosives too, if you need those. Which we won't today."

They turned to the mouth of the alley and exited, easily merging into the sparse foot-traffic of denizens who briskly traveled in aversion to all permutations of unnecessary social interaction. While half of those they passed would throw paranoid glances over their shoulders at intervals of half-minutes, the other half of the local population was curiously stoic and unresponsive in demeanor. The way they traversed the dejected streets made Liselle think of ghosts; trickling rivers of lost and dazed souls whose agendas completely eclipsed the environment they inhabited, and sealed them away alone in stasis to reflect upon their dismal circumstance for all of time.

From the heights of the spires the area's squalor had been visible, but nowhere near as obscene as it was up close. There was no commerce here, no business, no diversions. It was a system of badly-maintained properties crawled into and inhabited by the lowest urchins of Omega, littered with old debris and mounds of scrap metal and imperishable garbage that occasionally looked as if it had been recently disturbed or picked through by hopeful scavengers.

_What happened here?_ Liselle wondered. Was this not part of the Gozu District as well, a district widely known to be densely populated by Aria's loyalists and supporters, and therefore as prosperous and tidy as a residential district on Omega could be? The Gozu District Liselle knew since early childhood had buildings of modern and stylish architecture, with reliable utilities and commodious living space. It was certainly not this crypt of misery and dereliction. What in the world had happened—or _not_ happened, rather—to allow entropy and decay to take permanent residency here, in a place supposedly blessed by Aria's influence and wealth-bringing tendencies?

Their stroll through the dingy lane eventually brought their destination back into view. Somewhere in the complex of interconnected buildings above, their allies watched vigilantly through rifle scopes and the live feeds streamed through minuscule cameras delicately stitched into the fabric obscuring their lower necks. When the commotion of scraping and voices echoing down the street reached their notice, Liselle heard a crackle in her earpiece before Hiral updated them on what lied ahead.

_"Two individuals coming around the next corner. Two salarians. Dragging a... I think it's sheet metal? Big piece of it, industrial. One of the salarians has a bad hand. He's having trouble."_

"'Bad' how?" Daus quietly asked.

_"Mangled, missing his middle digit."_

"That's him," the turian muttered to his two companions, them motioned for them to slow down as he quickened his pace and intercepted the two salarians just as the leading carrier of their burden came into sight.

"Eshedra!" Daus called out, causing the salarian with the mangled hand to jump from surprise and drop his end of the thick metal sheet. A loud bang and bitter curses followed, issued from both Eshedra and his associate whose foot was nearly crushed by the weight.

"Daus? What the hell are you doing here?" he asked him, but stepped forward to greet him nevertheless. Suddenly, his expression darkened into bleak fear when he noticed Liselle and Malak a few paces behind the turian. "...Who are these people?"

"Friends of mine," he casually explained. "They'd like to meet Vathesa. Is she around?"

Eshedra's gaze was locked upon the two strangers Daus had brought with him, subjecting them to heavy, suspicious scrutiny. "...She's around," he eventually replied with no small amount of distraction in his voice. He finally faced Daus again as his cloud of suffocating fear gradually lifted away. "I haven't seen you in two weeks." With the comment, Eshedra returned his attention to the plate of metal. Daus pursued, taking a third corner into his hands to offer help.

"Two weeks well spent. I've a few presents for you and Vathesa."

"Well that's great and all, but ever since Jirlok got himself killed we've been hard-pressed for menial labor. That stupid krogan could've done this job twice over in half the time it's taking us..."

Daus motioned at Malak and Liselle, who began rendering aid as well. "Well you're in luck," Daus said. "Vikra and Liselle here are a couple of able bodies if you need them. In addition to myself."

"We don't need more bodies," Eshedra said with a grunt as the metal was lifted from the ground. Their overall pace quickened with the extra help, and increased more so when Liselle supplemented her own strength with biotics. "You know what we need? A _truck_. If these two are worth anything else they'll get us the money for one."

"If you really need one," began Malak, "I could probably find something within a day or two, no charge at all."

Eshedra surprised them by laughing. "What did you tell these people, Daus? You didn't lie to them about anything just to get them on board, did you?"

"I may have neglected to mention a few details..."

"Listen," Eshedra said to Liselle and Malak, "If you're just here because you're tired of Aria bossing you around, you're in the wrong place." He paused to shift his forearms beneath their cargo, straining just a moment during the transition. "We're more than that. You'll see. We're so much more than that."

They continued on in that manner, attracting the occasional stare but completed the rest of the journey undisturbed. When their destination lied just a few buildings down from their position, Daus spoke up again to ask Eshedra about the eventual role of the metal.

"Blood Pack, last week," he explained. "They were raiding all down this bloc because a few neighbors weren't paying some debts. Took out most of the eastern wall along the kitchen when a grenade went off next door. We've been scouting around for stronger materials to patch up the hole with, and I'm hoping that if there's ever a next time a sturdier wall will keep out the trouble." Eshedra inhaled and panted to replenish his provision of oxygen, split between the efforts of manual labor and speaking. "Right now we've only got some curtains and corrugated sheets between us and what's left of the drug runners next door. Kiava's nervous. She thinks they might take advantage of it and rob us for supplies. With Jirlok gone they might just have the guts to try."

At last they reached Eshedra's place of residence, carrying their burden up a few steps and past the front door with much welcomed help from Liselle, who carefully guided it into the narrow corridor directly inside the multi-leveled abode. She rested it against the stairs crammed up against the left wall as instructed, where Eshedra's people would retrieve it and make use of it shortly. Once freed of the wall-to-be, Liselle seized the chance to properly observe their surroundings while Daus chatted with Eshedra about recent happenings in the area and within the household.

The interior was cramped and populated to an inconvenient degree. People of various races eyed her and Malak as they walked by with the same amount of suspicion and alarm as Eshedra had when first setting his sights upon them. Some were heavily involved with the kitchen's reparations and too busy to stay out of curiosity, while others glared unceasingly from where they sat on overturned crates and large water containers that held the secondary function as furniture, or from where they stood beside numerous items whose original purposes had long been forgotten in favor of more thrifty uses. And Liselle, so used to the cleanliness and harmony of the apartments Aria bought for her and Iaera, continued to be stunned.

It was small. It was structurally unsound, coarse-oil-scented, and it was _dirty_. It was an immense wonder that such a shanty could serve as the base of operations for _anyone,_ let alone a group who could pose as a legitimate concern for Aria. How did they ever get anything done when constantly in danger of tripping over trash, or being haunted by a claustrophobic sense of slowly being crushed?

Liselle was retrieved from her thoughts when she noticed an asari crossing into the view of the tiny corridor, or what might've been a foyer if fate had been merciful. Her arms were wearily held across her chest and only temporarily untucked to direct residents who closely followed her. Her voice was thoughtful and lingering, its character usurping the drone of creaking metal and short bursts of chatter above their heads and through the thin walls. She gave time to everyone who approached her, and even those in a rush would yield to her slow pace of conversation for however long she took to arrive to a conclusion. From just a few observed interactions Liselle could tell that she was respected, or even loved, by the majority of the inhabitants. And Liselle could vaguely see why. A certain patient affection seemed to radiate from her presence, but then it was shadowed by a distance of the mind that seemed to wander away and back again every few seconds, as if she only maintained her functionality by allowing half her consciousness to periodically drift aimlessly into kinder, gentler realities. She would grow silent and absent during these spells, but her people would always wait for her to resurface.

There was a tamed wisdom in her exhaustion. The way she perceived her surroundings was like the stargazer studying the vast firmament, always searching for things they would never truly experience in immediacy, and thus doubted empirical existence on some pensive nights alone.

When she noticed Daus and the company he had brought, she did not cast upon them intense suspicion like all others had. Instead, she merely caught Eshedra's attention; he excused himself from his talk with Daus and joined her side. She laid a hand on his arm and they spoke, first about the scavenged metal, _then_ about Daus and his friends. After beckoning for two idle residents to come and transport the metal to the kitchen area, Kiava Vathesa approached Liselle and Malak and warmly made their acquaintance. Dreamy words left her lips, expressing how elated she and Eshedra were to have them before welcoming Daus with a small embrace, as if he had been something akin to a beloved, cherished son.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

The smallest hours of the night were swiftly approaching. Following their migration back to the councilor's study, the two asari had revived their discussion of Aria's plans and accumulated evidence. Tevos listened to her saturate their conversation with fact and corresponding extrapolation, giving brilliantly-detailed accounts of the murders that illuminated mottles of vagueness that resulted from her previous disclosures. Again those visual horrors were presented to Tevos on her monitor; the cadavers, just as twisted and mangled with trauma as the councilor remembered, and they invoked the same stark feeling of uneasiness in her stomach. They cycled through suspects and causes to no end, but Aria kept returning to the question of how the murders were carried out, again and again.

It was obvious that the mystery had both stumped and angered her beyond what she was accustomed to. Aria spoke of many things: bombs and spores, knives and poisons, guns and machines—but no matter how deeply she reached into her centuries of archived knowledge, she could not seem to tie a plausible story to the death of Olat Dar'nerah. The circumstances were absolutely confounding. Conjecture was continuously offered in vain hopes to give their conversation direction, yet every suggestion was discarded in the end, from speculation about trimmed video feeds to cleverly-executed body switches. Evidently, it was soon agreed upon, they were missing a vital feature of the whole story, or something was not quite as it seemed.

Tevos said more, but like all its predecessors, all reasoning was for naught without additional evidence. It was almost disheartening, Tevos found, when she began noticing Aria's desire to terminate their efforts for the night. The decision had not been made in surrender, but in wise recognition of ineffectuality due to a preponderance of variables, yet Tevos could not help but feel a small pang of defeat when they agreed to halt their talk. It happened gradually, from Aria's tones and word selection glowing with hints of irritation, to Tevos's fading words, then to silence and mild discomfort within it.

But Tevos, with her perennial social expertise, was still able to salvage the coldest and most dejected of silences with reports of her trouble with the Batarian Hegemony. Her ambassador came to her earlier that day and in private, expressed his goodbyes in the face of impending removal from his position. He was too politically progressive, he told Tevos. Too much of his résumé described a man friendly to Citadel policy, which was to the Hegemony's current leadership, an umbrella that was casting too malevolent a shadow over their prowess. The only incentive the Hegemony still had to keep their embassies open, said the ambassador, was economic. Without the Citadel acting as a hub at which their trade was linked to a vast number of worlds, stagnation was imminent.

At one point, Tevos turned her head to find Aria keying out a message into her omni-tool, seemingly without paying the councilor's words any heed.

"Are you even listening to me?" Tevos asked her after a brief pause during which she gave Aria the chance to return her attention to her, and only spoke when she failed to do so.

No answer was initially given, not until Aria half-heartedly detached herself from her typing to calmly and tamely reply, "I always listen to you."

Tevos received the statement with a sudden yet soft laugh. The reaction addressed what she perceived as comical, and there was nothing more comical than the sense that Aria was sweetly reassuring Tevos of her attentiveness. "You always listen to me?"

Aria finished composing her message and faced Tevos when she questioned her. "That's what I said."

"Then what did I say?"

"You're going to lose your batarian ambassador soon. You know his replacement will be disagreeable, and you're worried about declining relations with the Hegemony."

Tevos hesitated, her suspicious leer fading as a hint of smugness crept into Aria's face; but visibly, _intentionally_ unsmiling. For a moment they sat there observing each other, evoking the atmosphere of an impasse and all the uncertainty about what should come next. In that instant, Tevos unexpectedly felt an insistent tug in her chest, and struggled to classify its cause. Embarrassment felt for mistakenly believing Aria was ignoring her? A sort of physical desire, enkindled by the way Aria looked at her with exceptional interest? Could it have been ironic hatred—not _true_ hatred, Tevos emphasized within her musings—for simply being unhate-able, which was a quality in complete contrast with that awful, vile oversimplification of a person many presumed her to be?

_How can it be,_ Tevos silently wondered, _that so many become enthralled with you in spite of yourself? This is how. I can see that_ this _is how. Not always during moments of defining, glorious turmoil, but when meetings grow quiet and dull. Your company always seems to keep the monotony at bay, whether for good or ill. You are constantly a vessel of intrigue._

Tevos cleared her throat when the increasing lengthiness of Aria's gaze caused it to grow proportionally provocative, and she finally spoke again. "Well, good then. This issue is very important."

When Tevos offhandedly asked Aria if she intended to leave immediately, Aria replied that she might, unless the councilor happened to want her to stay awhile longer. To this teasing—which was quite blatant for a person of such tenuous nuance—Tevos defended herself by nonchalantly leaving the matter up to her. If Aria desired to remain, she said, she was granted full permission to do so. But her maneuvering verged on impressive when she told Aria that if she intended to stay, she would need to be quiet while the councilor caught what sleep remained of the night.

This too amused Aria, and kept her eyes upon Tevos for a long while and with an aspect that made the other asari feel warm. It was the strangest thing, Tevos thought, to feel a certain pleasure at being watched in this manner. She _knew_ Aria was intentionally trying to whittle away her composure, and it may have even been working, but what was a little sacrificed pride in comparison to experiencing a feeling she hadn't in years? There was something utterly inimitable about being looked at with _intentions_ , and she greatly missed it. Tevos could recall a handful of times wanting and missing such looks even when she _had_ partners—a somewhat sad fact she would not be disclosing to Aria in a hurry. The cause of it had never been that Tevos nor said partners were undesirable, but because of _who_ she was in relation to whom she was with: generally, of superior office or otherwise higher prestige. There was no doubt in Tevos's mind that this had often caused an interpersonal rift between her and romantic candidates. Too many relationships had stood on the foundations of tolerable personality mixed with practical political alliance. Possible serious partners would have to be competent and presentable; unprovocative and devoid of scandal-fodder. Every one she took eventually suffered that ornamental existence until mutual interest dwindled out of severity, or more rarely (and tragically), out of neglect. And more than once was Tevos too busy to even set time aside for a few days of heartbreak.

But what a liberating thing this dalliance with Aria was quickly becoming—a secret habit which would never have to face public scrutiny, and whose continued survival solely relied upon their whims. She appreciated it. She appreciated _her_ simply for providing this company. Tevos eventually turned away from Aria at last, pretending to pluck out a few loose threads from her robe.

"What's that?

Tevos's hand stilled and fixed as she found Aria's eyes again. "What's what?"

Instead of verbally replying, Aria extended an arm and laid her fingertips on the back of Tevos's neck. She raised their position, her touch gliding over her skin before dipping into the back of her collar. The councilor wordlessly stared at her, stunned by Aria's audacity until she realized what she was asking about. Though she could not see for herself the location of Aria's fingertips, they rested in question at the peaks of two parallel, creamy white lines painted on either side of her top, most prominent vertebra. Initially, Tevos could not fathom why Aria would waste her time asking about something she had so likely noticed before.

"You... You didn't notice them when we...?" Tevos trailed off, struggling to find more prudent terms.

There was little doubt that Aria knew precisely what she was aiming to say, but she did not answer. Her hand retreated and was laid on the back of Tevos's armchair where it idled.

Soon, it became obvious to Tevos that Aria in fact had _not_ noticed them, and shortly after she came to realize why. Quite wryly, she thought, if Aria had bothered to properly disrobe her instead of resorting the base impatience, the markings in question might have already caught her attention. The way Aria was eyeing them made Tevos wonder if she was currently drawing the same conclusions.

"When did you get them?"

"A few decades ago," Tevos quietly replied. "You know about them? What they are?"

A single nod to reflect adequate exposure to their homeworld's culture, a long pause, then the bold, low-toned request, "Let me see them."

"If you know what they are, then you also know they're not for pleasing other people," said Tevos. She meant no aversion by her words, but she would not be indulging Aria unless she was certain of her knowledge and respect of their significance. Until then, a single hand fastened the front of her white robe obstinately shut. "A compliment to the facial tattoos the asari councilors wear. Symbols of bygone times and unchanging degrees of burden and responsibility. One's mortal shell unconditionally given to her people. A declaration of incorruptible devotion—"

Aria hummed in comprehension, perhaps to influence Tevos to stop speaking. "It means you're important."

She appeared mildly displeased. "Is _that_ what you're extracting from what I was saying? You see, this is exactly why I'm hesitant. I can't expect you to have any reverence for our people's traditions, and the only natural alternative to that is mocking them..."

The hand previously resting on the armchair's back returned to Tevos's neck where she began tenderly, albeit a bit patronizingly, stroking her flesh there. "Why do you always think the worst of me, Tevos?"

Tevos faintly smiled at her own answer while she composed it. "So that I'm often pleasantly surprised, of course."

There was a brightness in Aria's eyes. It was approval, excitement, and challenge all condensed into one enigma of an expression, so subtle and abstract that the slightest inattentiveness would have inflicted unforgiving ignorance. She continued to stroke Tevos's neck in spite of their silence, kneading her fingertips and thumb into the uppermost plane of her back, where modest muscles beneath the skin there gradually lost tautness and the temperature of flesh rose to a most hospitable warmth. There came a point where Tevos was compelled to look away and reassign her gaze to an non-particular location on the carpeting; the point immediately following attention imprudently spent on absorbing Aria's presence. The firmness of her touch, the aggressive black contours of her pants as they framed her legs and disappeared into her equally-intimidating boots—and that darkness juxtaposed against the penetrance of certain softer features expressed through the white shirt so daintily fitted around her chest.

_I am alarmingly consumed by her,_ she ruefully thought, and attributed the fact to novelty. _Such is the same with all things when they are new, I suppose..._

There had been multiple times recently when she wanted to berate herself for being so distracted, but if the absolute enthrallment with new, enjoyable things was as temporarily as she'd been led to believe, she need not bring her exhilaration to an end so quickly. Enjoyable things were already far too fleeting as it were. She would recover in time, but that time was not now.

"Let me see them," she heard Aria requesting again.

"And just what will I receive in return? If you're going to inconvenience me it shouldn't be for nothing, wouldn't you agree?"

After a brief moment of consideration, Aria leaned in halfway over the small table between their adjacent chairs as her fingers ventured to the opposite side of Tevos's neck where they brushed her jaw and coaxed her nearer, tacitly informing her of the conditions under which her question would be answered: only if she drew closer to hear it. When Tevos complied Aria closed the distance between them, lowered her voice to near-inaudible levels, and expressed what Tevos would receive. The councilor's reaction was immediate. A momentary blush erupted on her cheeks, although mitigated by her reflexes spent on a swift retreat and a lifted hand to press her fingertips to Aria's lips, silencing her. While Aria showed multiple symptoms of being on the verge of laughter, Tevos found her voice again.

"You can't talk to me like that," she quietly but firmly told her. Not two minutes ago Tevos had cast their relations as having the qualities of exactly the diversion she desired, but no special privileges could subvert years of self-cultivated dignity, regardless of whether its manifestation was prudence or conceit. Sometimes, when she took the time to hesitate and evaluate, Tevos had discovered that it was difficult to tell them apart, and such was the case now. She warily removed her hand.

Aria was complacent, fingertips still grazing the councilor's skin as she quietly asked, "You wouldn't like that?"

_If phrased more politely, I might,_ Tevos mused, but did not state it. She merely paraphrased her previous words, and issued them as if they had life and powerful agency of their own. "You can't speak to me to like that, Aria. I'm not some... some _courtesan_ , or—"

"You're inherently better than one?" Aria coolly inferred.

"I— _no_ , that is _not_ what I meant. Don't you dare twist my words, I know you're doing it on purpose. What I was _about_ to elaborate on was that my lifestyle, as opposed to someone else's, are _different_. We respond differently to the same words, based on what we're accustomed to, based on what our usual environments are..."

Aria said nothing. With the uncanny sweetness and tenderness she employed whenever she wanted something from Tevos, as the asari councilor had come to understand and recognize the moment she saw it, Aria gently suggested that she return to hear something else she had to say in close proximity, perhaps a revision of what she had said before, now in appropriate form and vernacular. A physical guidance toward herself was urged by provocative finger-lengths against the base of Tevos's neck. The advance was received with compliance.

When Tevos heard what was _not_ the revision she had hoped for, she hushed Aria again, grasping at her shirt to secure better purchase for the small push she delivered, and sharply reprimanded her, _"You_ are in dire need of some spiritual repentance."

There had been fistfuls of clothing, fingertips pressing into flesh as Tevos attempted to chastise her guest while holding her at bay, while Aria held fast and sought to deepen the mauve hue on Tevos's cheekbones with more lubricious promises. Hands that abruptly, _delightfully,_ felt and acted several centuries younger fumbled and twisted, fingers slipping between knuckles accidentally while seeking wrists to seize, until Tevos had one of Aria's in her grasp. All flustered struggle ceased when she rose from her chair, aching to have Aria in her bedroom. Her fingers wrapped around Aria's wrist like a bangle, and she pulled just once—a motion akin to a single syllable if it were uttered word. Unlike last time, Aria stood at the first request.


	18. The Hovel in the Dark

With introductions having been made, Eshedra drafted Daus and Malak into the task of making the necessary repairs for the damages in the kitchen area, taking the sheet metal they recovered just that day along with the eclectic piles of metal reinforcements, and sealing them into position using the welding tools strewn along the countertops in the absence of any thoughtful organization. Liselle was left to answer the gentle behest of Vathesa, who requested her aid in distributing meals for the residents above their heads—bedridden, she mentioned—and unable to traverse the stairs without being carried or propped upright by another escorting body. They dodged the repair team in the kitchen while assembling their bowls of thick brown-gray sustenance of highly dubious nutritional value, before placing them on trays and heading back out toward the decrepit stairs that groaned and creaked hoarsely at the steps Vathesa and Liselle burdened them with.

As the two asari ascended, Vathesa inquired about Liselle's previous occupation, sending the question over her shoulder at the maiden.

"I work for Aria," Liselle said, staying loyal to a prearranged story she had devised with her squadmates. "Or, I used to." She shifted her hold on the tray she carried, redistributing the precarious weight as she stepped up the narrow corridor, marked by curtains of darkness and flickering panels displaying the atmospheric and environmental status maintained along the bloc.

"It was a noble thing you did, coming here," Vathesa told Liselle in her kind voice. She slowed her ascent to allow Liselle, who was unfamiliar with the long-abused staircase, to catch up to her. "I'm sure it was terrifying. I hope Daus made it easier for you. He's been such a great help in bringing new people to us over the past few years, particularly people from Aria's forces. Jirlok was among them, the poor man. He was practically harmless, despite appearances. And he was a dear friend to us."

On the second floor they paused to deliver the food to those confined there by their substandard health. The recipients were several individuals of reserved, distant nature, and one whose bright eyes, vocal greeting, and gratitude managed to surmount his misfortune. Liselle found herself immensely curious about their presence, but would not rudely ask about them when in such close proximity. They migrated back down the stairs to retrieve the next few trays for the third floor, once again avoiding the operation in the kitchen, which at present still involved copious amounts of banging metal into shape before heating the alloys to searing temperatures when set in place.

"As you've noticed," Vathesa said to Liselle while assembling more meals, "it's not easy, what we do. Between survival and trying to become a legitimate outpost, we have to ration resources down to the last credit, to the last crumb. But I don't regret it, not a single thing. And neither does anyone else here." She fondly looked over in the direction of Eshedra, who appeared patently frustrated with the progress of their repairs. His disposition did nothing to harm the small appreciative smile on her lips, nor her favorable opinion of him.

When in the safety of the stairwell again, with the ominous creaking their steps produced mitigating her voice, Liselle issued her question, "Can I ask… where do these people come from? The ones in the beds?"

At her inquiry, Vathesa paused so that her answer would not reach the notice of those they spoke of. She faced Liselle, perfectly tame, patient, and willing to answer. "Well, Liselle… it is, partially, the reason why our outpost isn't in a better state. They are mine. They're my patients, many of whom are waiting for a limb, a treatment, a transplant. We keep funds for the ones who might one day undergo these procedures."

"…Only those who might?"

Vathesa lowered her voice to bare audibility, "Yes. Some will not."

Liselle nodded in understanding.

_"Liselle,"_ she heard Rasma's voice crackling in her earpiece, _"get a bug on that staircase. It's a good spot."_

"This entire region of the galaxy is a victim of a terrible disease, Liselle," Vathesa said, shaking her head with a slight twinge of grief in her hushed tone. "The reigning warlords are a viral infection, with their most powerful being cancerous to the greatest malignance. When I came here I had hoped I could bring a salve with me. A long time ago I worked for Thessia's government. They sent me here on an experimental mission. I, along with several others, was to distribute free healthcare to the people of Omega and observe the local effects our intervention had. Aria didn't mind us. And I didn't mind her. She never bothered our property or patients and allowed us to carry out our mission without a single objection. I respected that. Respected Aria for leaving people to their own devices and personal pursuits. She gives Omega its freedom. But…" She trailed off, sighing in distraction as she turned away and faced a devoid, shadowed wall.

Liselle waited intently, still clutching the tray of strange gruel.

"But what lies on the other side of freedom?" Vathesa turned her eyes upon her again. "In time, after years and years spent struggling against Omega itself to help the vulnerable and forgotten, I realized something. There would be no end to my fight, no victory. That alone wasn't a reason to stop fighting, of course, but it alerted me to something. I saw Aria, so powerful and capable of enacting anything she desired, and within that I saw her negligence. What good is a so-called Queen's promise of freedom if it can't improve the lives of her people? What good character could she possibly have if she wields immense power but will not use it to better Omega? She sits on a high tower, watching her realm burn... and she does not care."

No reply initially left Liselle. After a hardly-detectable stutter, she said, "So your clinic..."

"Our funding was cut and we were called back to Thessia," Vathesa replied. "My government ultimately decided that our efforts were not impacting our designated areas enough to justify the project's continuation. But I chose to stay. I _chose_ to stay because I grasped the situation better than the statistics we sent home. I had _saved lives_. I saw people walking again, breathing again, who wouldn't have if I had not been there. And upon my decision to remain on Omega I said to my government, _how dare you tell me that our efforts didn't matter?_ It did matter. It always mattered." She turned and gradually resumed their ascent, implicitly urging Liselle to follow. "There are a lot of beautiful people on Omega, Liselle. More than I ever initially thought." She turned to the maiden once more, offering Liselle a small smile.

She returned the expression, however false and forced it might have been.

"They aren't inherently evil, and they aren't inherently criminals." Vathesa reached the top of the stairs and immediately began leading Liselle up the second flight. "They are _made_ criminals. They have to be, just to get by. And I would never ascribe the entirety of fault to the individuals without first examining the conditions that shaped them so in the first place."

Once Vathesa had turned her back to Liselle again, the maiden crouched down in the middle of two steps and rolled out a tiny bug from the interior of her sleeve, deftly catching it on her fingertips. She oriented it before swiftly sticking the adhesive to the underside of one of the steps, and resumed her journey.

They arrived on the uppermost floor. It was a room with additional sources of light seeping through pinholes in the old thin walls, and populated with five bedridden bodies. There was a salarian who shivered under thin sheets with glistening pallor on his skin, and a turian whose countenance almost made Liselle jump in surprise when she saw the pitted side of his face where the bony carapace had completely rotted away in the throes of some horrible disease. The only soul who spoke a word to Liselle was a batarian woman with an aspect in her hazy eyes that gave Liselle the abstract impression of her mind being far, far away in some distant time or place. Upon receiving her meal she had said to the maiden, "Such a pretty thing. But her eyes are cruel..." and said no more, ever, to Liselle again.

While returning to the kitchen, Vathesa informed Liselle that the batarian woman was no terminal patient, but a most permanent one regardless. Her mind had been addled by exorbitant use of drugs some years ago, she was much younger than she appeared, and although her mental health had deteriorated beyond any hope of recovery, Vathesa attested to her being excellent company and in possession of one of the kindest souls she ever had the privilege of encountering.

Upon rejoining the repair team, Eshedra rose from where he had been kneeling at the base of their project and greeted Vathesa by informing her of their need for additional reinforcements to frame their metal patchwork. He stripped the welding gloves from his hands while Malak and Daus stepped to the side to allow Vathesa to inspect their work. Liselle overheard her remarking that it looked good thus far, then rose back to her full height, turned to Daus, and said to him, "I need you and your friends to do another favor for me. I need you to go to the markets and pick up several items—here's a list." She brought up her omni-tool and sent it to Daus. He accessed his inbox to confirm its arrival. "Do you have money?" she asked him.

"For this? Yes, between us we have more than enough."

"Good. When you come back I'll reimburse you."

At her request, Daus led Liselle and Malak from the kitchen, past some few residents lingering in the dim, miniature foyer, and onto the streets of the outside slums. Liselle did not say so, but she felt much more comfortable in the cross-hairs of Hiral's rifle than within the old groaning building.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Far above the streets, in the alcove between two monstrous buildings spied the ground team's technical support. Rasma had replaced Hiral at the rifle and was peering vigilantly through the scope at a dirty, foggy window as shadows passed behind it, unidentified and mysterious. Every so often she would glance at the video feeds being transmitted to a small monitor propped against the railing to her left. She would assess the location of each of her allies and adjust the positioning of rifle accordingly. It was all a precautionary measure, only in anticipation of something going disastrously wrong. And even then it was uncertain whether the firing of the weapon would even be warranted.

At one point she instructed Liselle to lay a bug on the staircase she was ascending with Kiava Vathesa. Upon its placement, Daus's teammate Saerirn announced from his terminal that the bugs were online and functional, and he was linking them up to the network to funnel all captured data to a location accessible for all agents in the intelligence branches of Aria's syndicate.

"One in the hall," he reported. "One in the kitchen, and one on the stairs. Would do well to set some up in a bedroom, if they get the chance. I'll radio Daus on that."

He sent a quick word to the turian before continuing to rapidly type away at his terminal.

Fraught with boredom, it seemed, Hiral peeled herself away from the side of an environmental unit to join Rasma at her perch at the edge of the median. Rasma heeded her with a half-glance, but said nothing until the drell remarked, "So, you're a Visiom?"

"I wasn't born one, if that's what you're asking," she said, making an effort to not sound friendly in the slightest.

"I only ask because of Aetius," said Hiral. She sat down and pressed her fingertips to the side monitor Rasma was using, causing Daus's camera feed of the welding project to appear larger on the screen, which demonstrated an impressive amount of image quality retained by the tiny devices sewn into their collars. "Aetius was a Visiom. I assumed because of your name there was some sort of relation. Same clan?"

"Same home colony," she coldly supplied.

"Family?"

A short, frustrated breath departed Rasma. "Spouse."

"Unusual, to marry here on Omega."

"Try old-fashioned."

"Looks like it," Hiral remarked, causing Rasma to tear her gaze away from the scope and leer irascibly at her.

"Do you have an issue with it? Because I can clear it up real quick."

Hiral calmly lifted her hands in defense of herself, dark glossy eyes as equally undeterred by Rasma's hostility. "It was just my curiosity. I never meant to offend. On the contrary, I'd offer you my condolences instead. I used to hear his name all the time when I first starting working for Aria a few years ago. Aetius was a good man. I never personally met him, but Aria would've never let him by her side if he wasn't."

"Yeah," Rasma said, her frustrations fading into shades of subtle remorse. She returned her eye to the rifle's scope to conceal it. "He was a good man. He didn't deserve any of what happened to him. I don't care who's brawling with Aria. I don't care who they are, where they came from, or what manic ideologies they're getting high on. They can only expect me to act accordingly."

"I'm on the same page, Visiom," said Hiral, watching as Rasma exchanged the ammunition set in the rifle for her preferred rounds. The locking of the weapon's components was loud to an almost violent extent. Though unspoken and potentially deleterious to internal health, her oath of vengeance was so apparent in her vicious motions that it was nearly palpable. The way she peered through the scope lent Hiral the sense that Rasma would love nothing more than to be radioed an excuse to put a bullet through the brittle windows of the hovel, and into the skull of one of its residents. "Perfectly."

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

The very instant the trio had crawled from the depths of the Gozu District's impoverished areas and emerged into the bustling markets, Malak was sending questions in Daus's direction. Liselle could barely hear their volley of replies over the chatter surrounding them, all rising from crowds that parted and coalesced around kiosks blinking with dazzling advertisements and often steaming with freshly cooked food. The streets were wet, she noted. Rinsed by the periodic rains of water released by environmental maintenance some few hours ago. Lights and amorphous reflections of color and shadow glistened beneath their feet as they traveled among the masses.

"Grocery shopping," Malak disdainfully scoffed. "Are you fucking kidding me? What exactly are these guys about, Daus? Are they some kind of charity coalition?"

"It's complicated," the turian glanced over his shoulder as he replied. "But you're not wrong. Vathesa and Eshedra live by a code of ethics. They won't steal and they won't kill. Instead they focus on taking in the ill and writing manifests denouncing Aria. Trying to get people to rise up against her, all that. There are other small outposts like them, but only Vathesa and Eshedra know where they are and who runs them. They probably think the secrecy will keep Aria from completely eradicating them, but that isn't true. I've even told them so—Aria doesn't care about them. They're nonviolent. They aren't threats to her. For the past few years she's just been content to spy on them and make sure they aren't getting into anything new."

"Which they just might have," Liselle mused aloud.

Daus nodded, turning as he strode so she could see his affirmative gesture. "Right. To be honest with you two, I think we're pursuing another false lead. They're poor and short on people. I can't see them possessing any of the resources our enemy has, based on what we've seen from their attacks."

"Maybe that's just it," supposed Malak. "It wouldn't surprise me to find out they've just been a middleman for another of those 'outposts' you mentioned. One that was far better outfitted and up to the hits they've dealt. Maybe they just needed someone to upload that forum post for them, to make Aria chase after the wrong target."

"That's what I've been starting to suspect. Unfortunately, if that turns out to be true then I've done a shit job of watching their communications. So for my own sake I hope that isn't the case."

They spent some time agonizing over a batarian spice stand, weathering through the owner's various sales pitches about how a particular rough-skinned black pepper promoted vitality, and how a ground yellow powder that, to Liselle, smelled strikingly like ship fuel was the favorite of Khar'shan's reigning sovereign. Eventually they identified the blend Vathesa had requested; a simple dried brown seasoning of low cost. They purchased eighty grams from the vendor and were off towards the meats, at which point a puzzling discovery on their shopping list was made. Vathesa was requesting almost ten kilograms of meat—far more than her wallet should have been able to afford, and far more than needed to supply the hovel with their dismal rations for an entire month. The lavishness of the proposal gave all three of them pause. Even Daus, who had spent ample time exposed to the lifestyle of Vathesa's people, could not offer them an explanation.

He called Vathesa to ask if an error had been made. After attesting to the accuracy of her list as it was, she commented on the peculiarity: _"Nutrition is vital for my patients. I need to start allocating more funds to their diets if I ever want to see them recover. It's a necessary sacrifice Eshedra and I have been debating over for some time now and we've finally decided to go ahead with the change."_

With the issue put to rest, Daus turned to his allies and said to them, "I think I'll go on ahead and get the meats after I get something to eat myself. I'd advise you two do the same in the meantime, only because I wouldn't accept any food Vathesa might offer you when we return. I know I said they're nonviolent, but if I've been wrong I don't want us to find out the hard way. So if you're not going to eat now don't rely on being done with the mission in time for another meal. This could easily take a day or two."

Liselle and Malak thought well of the suggestion. Daus left the pair in search of something dextro-friendly and palatable, first promising to radio them his location once he purchased the meat, where they would rendezvous and aid him in transporting their provisions.

Malak wasn't Liselle's most preferred company. He still leered at her with malice whenever their eyes met, and while in his presence Liselle was constantly on guard for a sudden verbal assault, ready to retaliate, and more importantly, ready to lie through her teeth to protect herself. As they walked abreast down the busy street, perusing the many stalls for a good meal, they deliberately kept their eyes from meeting. The brief instant of relief Liselle experienced when selecting her source of a meal was ruined when Malak curiously turned to inspect her destination once she left his side. Apparently, the batarian food stall was just as aligned with his tastes, drawing him to the same place at the end of the short queue.

At last their gazes met when Liselle noticed he had followed.

"You like batarian food?" he asked her, gesturing up at the yellow sign, lighting up radiant batarian script without a translation to be found anywhere. "You like _b'kalna?_ "

Detecting no hostility in this tone, Liselle answered affirmatively. "I grew up eating it."

"Really?" Malak inquired further, seeming to take an interest in her claim. The spicy thick stew, usually filled with large chunks of vegetables, garnished with a generous spoonful of minced, sharply-tasting pale root over the top, and populated by roasted skewers of rich meats dipped into the bowl was strikingly estranged from the many fish-centered meals often found on asari menus. "An asari liking a traditional batarian street food like that, huh? Was your father batarian or something?"

"No. I actually, uh, never knew my father," said Liselle, turning away momentarily to fill in an emptied spot as the queue before them gradually shortened. "But my mother liked it. She's lived here a while so that's probably why she has a taste for it. And I was born here, so..." She gave a casual shrug to illustrate the simplicity of the matter.

They ordered almost identically. Their preferences only diverged in that Malak requested extra spice in his stew, while Liselle declined the root topping. After paying and receiving their meals the two found adjacent seats at the end of the stall where they ate and resumed their chat.

"Your mother seems likable in my book," Malak remarked. "Just on the merit of having great taste. I've been eating this since before I even left Erszbat. _My_ mother, on the other hand..." He emphatically shook his head. "Most abrasive woman to ever have an active role in my life. Bar Aria, of course."

Liselle quietly laughed. "I don't know your story, but I can probably sympathize."

He took her up on the offer. "Let me tell you something, kid. Agriculture life on Erszbat is a seriously boring business. My family wasn't part of the highest caste, but we were comfortable. I was bored, but comfortable. _That's_ a privileged life right there. Being bored means you've got nothing to worry about, right?" He began removing the meats from the skewer and eating them. "Not for my older brother. So _he_ starts watching these Citadel newscasts and getting these fucking strange ideas in his head about leaving home for that place. My father tells him there's no place for him on the Citadel. We've been hanging onto our embassy there for years by a single thread, and it's not getting better. And he was right about that. But my dumbass radical brother goes and drops _everything_ —the farms, his inheritance, fucking _everything_ —to go to the Citadel. He leaves us this note, talking about how Khar'shan is bad for our people and that we need to be plural with other races. So I get all of Vikra's work dumped on me for the next few weeks while my father takes off trying to find him on the Citadel and bring him back, but he's long gone. Probably changed his name and almost everything else, because we never found him. Guess what happened after that?"

Liselle did not have a guess for him. But it _had_ been revealed to her where the first half of Malak's pseudonym, Vikra Estam, originated.

"Word all over the community gets out that Vikra Lekahn has fled the Hegemony. And if you've ever lived anywhere in the Hegemony, you'll know that's just about the worst thing that can happen to your business. We're losing money left and right until there's just nothing left, so my mother sends me to her brother Ralot Dar'nerah. I get a good position in his fleet and I send a lot of money home over the next few years. It's a good deal. Ralot dies, his son Olat takes over and ends up strengthening ties with Aria to make up for his own shortcomings, and I decide that I'm never going back to Erszbat. One last credit transfer goes out to my family. I tell them they have to find another way. My father _has_ to be making some sort of income after all this time, I say. A few days later, I get assassins." He started laughing.

The sudden morbid twist in his account kept Liselle from laughing with him. Although she was confident in her ability to best him in the competition over who had the deadliest mother, she decided to let Malak retain his win. But when Malak asked her about her mother, Liselle felt forced to compete anew. Of course, she disguised her anecdotes with extraordinary vagueness.

"I love my mother," she said, lowering her skewer for a time as she spoke. "She's done so much for me, but she doesn't demand much in return. Which really isn't typical of her at all. Normally I'd say she's one of the most demanding people in _galaxy_ , but with me it's like... it's like she doesn't even bother because she _knows_ her demands won't be met. And that just... That just _fucking sucks_ sometimes, you know?" She turned on her swiveling stool to orient herself toward Malak, with her last words carried on a small, fatalistic exhale. He was issuing her a few shallow nods. "And she's so successful. She uh, works for Aria too. And she always does a great job. She's great at everything she does and I'm just left looking in the mirror sometimes wishing I was stronger or smarter like her or wishing for the same look that can just _scare_ people." She paused to glare at her food. "I always felt like... like I always had something prove, but couldn't. People say that a generation is successful when it surpasses the one that came before, so that always made me feel like I wasn't doing good enough. How can you aspire to something you know you'll never achieve? That's the feeling, I think. Just having the sense, that no matter how hard you stretch, you'll never be taller than you are."

She returned to her meal, delivering a few spoonfuls to her mouth to excuse herself from speaking any further.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

With their cargo toted along, whose contents would absolutely delight any creature of exclusively carnivorous inclination, Liselle and her allies arrived at the hovel's doorstep a few hours after originally disembarking. A salarian resident with whom they had not been introduced wordlessly allowed them into the building, and left their presence to presumably fetch Vathesa, who appeared in the kitchen to receive them soon after. Malak and Liselle went to work immediately, removing the food items from their containers and storing them in cabinets and a refrigerator as directed while Vathesa reimbursed Daus's funds spent on the errand. Kindly, the turian refused to accept the final twenty percent of the total. Vathesa sweetly touched his shoulder before approaching a perplexed Liselle, who presently stood with two large, filled packages of meat in her arms but without any room left in the refrigerator, or its freezer component for that matter, to place them in.

"Thank you so much, Liselle," she told her before relieving her of the packages. "You've been a great help. Don't worry about the rest—we have a bit of extra storage room for these." She left the kitchen. Liselle craned her neck to peer around the bend of a wall to discern where she headed; down the hall, and through a locked door to the left.

When Vathesa reappeared, she offered them a meal which Daus's keen foresight allowed them to decline. The asari seemed a tad disappointed in their refusal, but saw nothing suspicious in their reasoning. To have been so pragmatic as to eat when in the company of a multitude of food vendors while navigating the markets was a story of little dubiousness, if any at all.

The standard Omegan day was coming to a close. Idle time found their hands, spent by their trio on empty conversation with the residents until Liselle began to hear radio chatter on Rasma's end detailing their decision and execution of setting up makeshift camp where they waited hidden among the roofs, as well as the designation of watch shifts. She detached herself from the discussion to listen, and was surprised when Rasma intentionally directed her voice at her with some important information and a suggestion, _"Liselle? Hey, remember that bug you set up beneath the staircase? Well, I was reviewing everything it recorded over the last few hours and the door to the storage room Vathesa entered a while ago is within its field of vision. So is the keypad. When you can—probably when everyone's asleep—I need you to get in there and investigate. When Vathesa went in there I saw some weird lights, lamps I think. We need to know what's down there. Can you handle it? Look up for yes, look down for no."_

She tilted her chin upward.

_"Okay, the code Vathesa used is 9-5-2-7-9-4. I'll run it by you again when you get to the door. Keep your collar camera on the whole time when you're down there, okay? We've got your back. I'm going to radio Daus and Malak now to tell them what you'll be doing."_

Just as Rasma promised, within a few moments Liselle observed Daus suddenly becoming reticent for half a minute. Malak soon underwent the same behavioral alteration as he too received the update. Eyes drifted in her direction on several occasions following Rasma's statement.

Within a few minutes of that incident, Vathesa approached the three and offered them quarters if they required somewhere to stay for the night. This offer, much unlike her previous one, was accepted. This seemed to please her; she led them at once to a small room near the storage—a convenience that almost made Liselle giddy—and before presenting the interior Vathesa warned them about its less than commodious size and what clutter lied within. Daus gratefully assured her that anything she could spare them would more than suffice, and to his generous comment Vathesa opened up the room to reveal precisely what she had described: a cramped interior with a single flickering light fitted into the ceiling, and where one corner of the small cubicle was populated by crates stacked upon chairs, and those upon a derelict sofa at the very base of that dingy totem. Liselle tried to envision each of the forgotten items serving some purpose somewhere and sometime, and even with a creative imagination it was difficult to construe probable scenarios aside from tearing them down into their constituents for scrap, which might have served the hovel better if it had already been done. A glance upward revealed a curtain of dust particles wafting by in the shaft of light above their heads, and a stray look to their right yielded the sight of a desk with a missing leg and no drawers to speak of.

A question suddenly struck Liselle. Of all places within the building she had witnessed, this very location would serve as the most effective storage for the surplus of meat, thus freeing the room that lied just one door down the hall for other lucrative purposes. Why had Vathesa not utilized the space effectively, she wondered? For someone who lived day to day on a pittance, no resource nor commodity, not even space, could be wasted.

Rasma was right, she concluded at once. There _was_ something in that room. For a time, only her wildest speculations could fill the void of knowledge, of what dark and shocking secrets might have been hidden beyond that silent door.

The three made due with the closet-like accommodations, carefully repositioning furniture and digging out old worn blankets to lay upon their hard surfaces. Liselle reaped the rewards of her slight stature in her ability to lounge on an exposed seat of a sofa with little discomfort, while Daus resorted to the floor for lack of anything more comfortable and Malak confined himself to an upright sleep in a chair taken from its haphazard pyramidal arrangement.

Upon turning out the light the blackest of darkness engulfed them, inspiring a comment muttered by Malak, "Just like my last girlfriend's heart," that made Liselle and Daus snort and laugh.

After settling in they waited for the building to grow silent. Too often did Liselle send the shadows away with the bright orange glow of her omni-tool as she obsessively checked the time, unable to sleep in anticipation of her mission. She heard Daus restlessly stirring nearby, failing to cope with the cruel conditions of the floor despite his determination. To her surprise she heard a snore from Malak, and another some time later.

When all sounds had faded away into nothing but dreary groans and pops of cooling metals and the subtle hum of the roughly-churning environmental systems, Liselle rose from the sofa and whispered to Daus, "I'm going now."

He nodded, the alert contours of his facial carapace illuminated by Liselle's omni-tool as she used it to navigate around the cluttered space until reaching the door. He said to her before she left, "If someone sees you, just ask them where a restroom is or something. Then try again on the way back."

She heeded his advice and silently exited, prudently leaving her boots behind for as much stealth as she could synthesize. The journey through the dim corridor was short, but the brevity did not free the breath she imprisoned within her lungs as she ran her fingertips along the wall for guidance. When she arrived at her destination, Liselle was forced to use her omni-tool again to see the keypad. With a palpitant heart she awaited Rasma's aid, fingers hovering over the numbers and her feet planted strategically on the floor in preparation to flee at the first sound of footsteps.

_"9-5-2-7-9-4,"_ came Rasma's voice.

Liselle hastily punched in the code. The lock switched to its green state and disengaged, presenting the maiden with a cloud of unnatural humidity that burgeoned forth from the blackness. Although the ominously strange air alarmed her, Liselle wasted no time in thrusting herself through the open doorway and into the alleged storage room, venturing further within until the door shut behind her. She lifted her forearm to survey her surroundings. The light emanating from her omni-tool bathed the outlines of many containers whose imperfect glass eerily refracted the fiery glow, and scattered it beyond their cases to the two units placidly humming where they stood against the far wall.

_Refrigeration units_ , Liselle descried.

Careful steps brought her to the first glass container. She drew close to make its contents clearly visible for herself and for Rasma, and beheld a sight that made her upper lip curl in grotesque fascination. A primal growth of thick vines lay piled at the base of the tank, with some uncurled arms reaching upward along the glass, wistfully toward its perforated ceiling. After bringing her face to the surface of the glass, Liselle could see the mass pulsing and ebbing with life, revealing static physical limitations but a base physiological trait that evoked heartbeats of blood-coursed organisms.

_"What the hell is that?"_ she heard Rasma say.

"I don't know," she truthfully whispered in reply before lowering her omni-tool to disclose her path to the next container. Upon her approach she identified its contents as some species of fungus or lichen, judging by the way it clung to the rock-scattered bed and rose out of the loam in bizarre, fan-shaped shells the color of soot. From their ridges oozed a fetid, translucent yellow substance that greatly offended Liselle. "Ugh, it smells _so bad_ ," she hissed to Rasma.

_"Well, like what?"_

"Like... Like putrid vegetables on top of vomit."

_"You hear that, Saerirn...? All right, good. Liselle, we're running extranet searches on these plants based on description. The vines are hard to narrow down to a single species but the second one is a fungus from Chalkhos. The excretions are noted for having hallucinogenic properties. You think Vathesa's supplying raw materials for drugs?"_

"Could be," said Liselle. "She's a doctor. She educated and she'd probably know how to harvest it properly. And they do need the money..."

Her sentence decreased in volume as she shed her aura of light over another specimen's container. The lonely occupant, lying on the bed of damp leaves flooded by a comfortable centimeter of water, was an outlandish, sack-like plant of debatable coloration due to the low quality of light, but Liselle could easily see many wavering stripes and speckles mottling its glistening skin. When she noticed its movement—gradual undulations frighteningly reminiscent of breathing—the expression of horrified curiosity returned to her face instantly. Her eyes traced the body to where it terminated in a mouth-like opening ringed by a band of thicker flesh. From what Liselle recalled from her few xenobiology books, the physiognomy was highly suggestive of a carnivorous diet, primarily evolved in plant species to overcome nitrogenous or other elemental deficiencies.

Her mind stalled, suddenly. She was struck by a thought so reverberating that she completely ignored something being said by Rasma in her earpiece to think to herself with a marrow-chilling shiver, _I... I think I know what that is..._

_"Liselle, did you hear me? I said Vathesa's up! She's heading down the stairs—hide somewhere, now! And this time, actually fucking hide right away, okay?"_

Now a bit wiser than she was in the past weeks, Liselle immediately started fumbling about in the darkness for a place to curl up within and disappear. She threw open cabinets, found them full, and briefly considered the refrigerators until realizing they could not be opened from the inside. Eventually she scrambled for the black container upon which the plant's tank was set, wedged her fingers into the old door whose hinges squealed from disuse when she swiftly pried it open, and climbed into it. And she waited in silence.

Nearly a minute elapsed before streaks of bright light became visible through the flawed joints that composed her box, and the sound of footsteps followed, closer, closer, then away from her position. Something was being opened. The refrigerator's hum grew louder, the rustling of a package being opened, then the manipulation of something moist. The hum quieted to its normal intensity, and the footsteps returned to her position. Liselle's eyes widened and fixated on the sight of feet right outside her container, visible through the space between the old hinges. The slimy sound was heard once more, and the feet moved away. Running water; a pause. Footsteps again, the light was shut off, and the door clicked shut.

Liselle waited for Rasma's all-clear rather than risk venturing out. After a minute more, she received it.

_"All right, Liselle. She's gone back up the stairs. You're good to go."_

She climbed back out of the space, making sure to push the neglected door back into place after leaving the box. To return some light to the room Liselle activated her omni-tool again, turned to the specimen within the tank, and found it in a positive state of taxis in the direction of a rather large slab of still-bloody meat, left completely raw and uncleaned. For both her and Rasma's benefit Liselle remained there observing the plant as it slowly began engulfing the meat, drawing it into its elastic body that bloated accordingly to accommodate the size of its meal. In less than a minute the impressive slab had been utterly removed from their sight.

"Rasma," Liselle whispered to her ally, "I think I know what that is."

_"Saerirn's doing another search. We think it's some plant from Khar'shan, called a... hey, how do you pronounce that?"_

"A vanhis," Liselle offered.

_"...Well, yes, actually. You've seen it somewhere?"_

"It's the plant they used to poison Aria."

There was silence on Rasma's end. _"...How exactly did you know that? Who told you? All that was ever said to me was that Aria had been poisoned, but no one ever informed me by what."_ She spoke aside, _"Hiral, do you know what Aria was poisoned with?"_

Hiral was initially quiet. Liselle faintly overheard her reply when she gave it, _"They didn't tell us. I assumed that information was only for higher-ups. Confidential, all that."_

Rasma returned her attention to Liselle. _"Liselle, how the—"_ She stopped herself, sighing sharply in exasperation. _"You know what, forget it. I'm getting tired of this. I'm going to send an update to Aria. Get back to the room and don't come out again until the morning."_

She greatly preferred being ordered around to being subject to another interrogation. Liselle obeyed Rasma without objection, quietly absconding from Vathesa's secret vault and sneaking back to where her teammates anxiously awaited her return.

When she slipped through the opening door to the true storage room a highly pensive Daus rose from his seat to accost her. Nearby, as Liselle saw, Malak snored loudly in a sleep so deep it bordered on morbid.

"What did you find?" Daus asked her without delay.

With a heart rate still dangerously soaring above its regular pace, Liselle gave her account after Daus slapped Malak on the shoulder to rouse him. With ever-widening eyes they listened to the very end, and only when they reached it did they release their volley of questions and concerns. Liselle dodged and deflected matters detrimental to her identity's protection, purposefully steering their discourse into the direction of addressing what should be done next in the immediate, pressing future.

Knowing Aria's punctuality, she would order a response the very next day if not sooner. If they were to leave the area by that deadline, they agreed upon, they would have to fabricate another commitment in order to excuse themselves from Vathesa's residence. It was an easy enough task. Daus remarked that to Vathesa's knowledge they still officially worked for Aria and therefore needed to act at her behest to maintain their cover. Vathesa could not keep them there, nor suspect them of treachery, if they were being called out to a job.

It was decided that they would leave by morning, meet with the remainder of their teams, and step back from their mission in deference to Aria's prerogative, which would be with little doubt, swift and devastating.

When morning came they briefly conversed with Vathesa and explained their situation. She let them go with no perceivable qualm; none but a ghost of remorse fleeting across her face, terrible and ghastly to those keen enough to witness it, as if somehow she sensed the dreadful reality looming over her hovel in the dark.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

The stillness of the night went uninterrupted until the distinct tumbling chime of the asari councilor's omni-tool startled her into consciousness. It was her own fault, perhaps, for not silencing the device before falling asleep. Or it might have been Aria's fault for denying her the chance.

With the distinction left blearily unmade, Tevos reached out to her bedside but was impeded by a body whose presence had slipped her mind. In her haze of half-awake thought she merely resorted to a hybrid of climbing over and pushing away the obstruction while groping for the small light switch on the nightstand. An irritated sound was roused from the body she disturbed.

As Tevos brought up her omni-tool's interface to discern just who was calling her at this hour, Aria emerged from the sheets beside her with a few slurred curses evolving on her lips. Upon checking the time, Aria suddenly bolted into an upright sitting position.

Meanwhile, Tevos had answered her call with a confused, "Nerava? What in the..." As her words trailed off, she laid a hand upon Aria's upper arm, chiding her into silence so her presence would not be overheard. Curiously, it wasn't the familiarity of the gesture itself that surprised her the most, but the fact that it had seemed to pacify Aria as originally intended.

" _Hello, dearest cousin Tevos,"_ came the cheery voice. _"I'm so glad you answered."_

Tevos thought herself a fool for believing that Aria would behave herself for more than a few seconds. In an instant Aria was drawing close, too close, until virtually pressing the side of her head against Tevos's to eavesdrop on the audio call. As quietly as she could, Tevos attempted to push her away.

"Nerava, have you any idea what time it is?" She pressed her palm against Aria's bare upper chest, applying an amount of force that dismally fell short of what was needed to keep her at bay.

" _Oh no, I've forgotten the time discrepancy... I'm on the Citadel for a short vacation with my bondmate, and my little girl is with her sister back home. Strange and fortunate that Estulius and his fabulous wife aren't beholden to bedtimes, though. They're here dining with us, and so is a delightful veteran friend of Estulius. They served in the same platoon some years ago, he tells me. His name is Falteus Drusarius. We were wondering if you were in any mood to join us, since there's an odd number at our table, if you know my meaning."_

"I'm afraid that's quite an impossibility," Tevos said, turning her head to send Aria a glare for her persistence. "And I'm not even going to ask about Estulius's strategy for staying awake during tomorrow's petitions."

There came a second, ambient voice; the unmistakable flanging tones rising from the vocal chords of a turian man, weathered somewhat by arduous decades but never succumbing to frailties imposed by age, _"Madam Councilor, I am profoundly sorry for disturbing you at this hour. It was not my intention nor my presumption to rudely request of you an audience and I hope I have not offended you."_

"Who is that?" Tevos asked Nerava. "Was that Drusarius?" In another attempt to put an end to Aria's eavesdropping, Tevos reached around her shoulder and pinched the flesh between her neck and shoulder. Aria tolerated the discomfort until fingernails found her skin, at which moment she made a quick retreat, appearing offended. Tevos pleasantly smiled at her.

" _Yes, Falteus is being awfully formal about this. You two would get along, I think."_

"Nerava, I know it was very likely that _you've_ thrown this onto that poor man."

Tevos became silent again as she allowed Nerava to speak, and Aria listened to the slight murmur of voices as she lounged on her side, watching and waiting with the blanket's hem resting in the alluring dip of her waist. She kept herself propped up with a lazy hand tucked against her jaw.

"All right Nerava," the councilor said at last, extending a hand toward Aria. Her fingers wrapped around the thin sheets and tugged them over Aria's shoulder, then ventured to pull them over her head as well. They were tossed back again the instant they came over her eyes. "Enjoy your night. Yes. Yes, I will speak with you again soon, preferably during the daytime."

When the call was terminated, Tevos gave a long sigh and turned to her bed's second occupant, who was still watching her with a peculiar look in her eyes. She was mildly surprised to see that Aria had remained. Though the night had been host to much preoccupation, Tevos could not see it being wearing enough to warrant a stay. Upon recalling such things, in tandem with peering at Aria so contentedly wrapped up in _her_ sheets, in _her_ bed, at such an intimate hour, Tevos experienced a yearning of the heart that twisted and pulled her, as if gently toward Aria again.

She was so appreciably enchanted by Aria. She was taken by her wits and drive, and all those smoldering charms patent in her looks and that sauntering attitude. Their effects produced such powerful compulsions experienced whenever in her company. Sudden and compelling urges to grasp Aria's jaw while her clever tongue spouted its insufferable pride and simply pull their lips together, with that feeling immediately followed by the outlandish impulse to abruptly push her face to the side once their lips had parted, albeit out of more affection than contempt. They were such strange urges to house. Tevos failed to even explain them to herself. Perhaps it epitomized and summarized her total feelings for Aria more concisely than words ever could.

Aria interrupted her ruminating by quietly stating, "Your family seems much more attracted to excitement than you are."

With a faint smile Tevos nudged Aria's arm with her hand. "How am I any less attracted to excitement? _You're_ here. If anything I've outdone them all. And Nerava is the outlier amongst us, as a matter of fact. When she was younger all she did was stay out late and party. She only changed some of her habits once she had her first daughter, and even with that influence she hasn't changed all that much."

They were quiet again. Tevos ran her gaze over the hills in the sheets, tracing over the lines that framed bent legs beneath. Fingertips sought the material proximal to Aria's body, digits slowly and tenderly curling around it as if it were her clothes, or part of Aria herself. To the wandering touch Aria did not respond, but merely asked Tevos a jarringly sudden question, "Did you ever marry?"

Her hand gradually stilled as suspicion sank into her skin and took hold of her. "You would've known about that if I had," Tevos said cautiously, looking up to meet her eyes. "So why ask?"

"I want you to tell me about it."

Aria's sweet tone had Tevos giving a diminutive scoff and averting her gaze. Eventually she humored her after reconciling with the absurdity of the question. "No, I never married," she said with a wry exhale fringing her words. "I came close just once, and I've dated plenty in the past, but I've never called anyone a bondmate. Sometimes I think it's because of my work. I'm already married, in a sense, to that. I'm not bothered by it. Companionship isn't integral to having a successful and fulfilling life."

"Mhmm," Aria vocalized in leisurely agreement. She lifted herself upward at last, pulling her legs over the side of the bed in preparation to rise.

"Are you leaving now?" inquired Tevos, eyes following Aria's dark silhouette as she began gathering her clothes and dressing herself.

"Yes, I've overstayed." She lifted the nightshirt she had borrowed from Tevos earlier that evening, folding it quickly before laying it on her nightstand. "I have a thousand things to do."

She said nothing more to Aria, permitting her to carry on unimpeded until she was completely dressed and prepared to depart, at which time Aria opened her mail client to reply to the messages that had arrived at her omni-tool during the night. Tevos noticed something odd in her for but a second. A pause, and a diversion of her attention as though the message itself had been the cause of it. The strange behavior did not last long enough for her to question it, however.

When Aria turned to her again and approached her bedside, Tevos was frozen by curiosity for a moment, ignorant of her intentions and possessed by anticipation. With her overflowing surplus of confidence Aria braced her hands against the mattress, dipped her head, and smoothly caught Tevos's neck with her lips, then teeth, and withdrew in the fashion she introduced herself with a hungry kiss, creating that familiar, exquisite fuss deep within Tevos's stomach. Her hands searched for a viable grip, caressing along planes of the matte-textured C-Sec undersuit as Aria retreated just enough to speak to her, voice roughened delightfully by its low volume, "Mm, I would fuck you again if I weren't leaving right now."

"And I might have slapped you just now if I wasn't well-mannered."

"Oh, I may or may not be into that sort of thing..."

Tevos placed a hand on Aria's cheek, only to turn her face away from hers in admonishment and simultaneously satisfy, at the very least, a portion of those interactions she was compelled to have with her. There was something immensely gratifying about manipulating any feature of Aria's body, whether it was harmlessly grasping her wrist and lifting her arm or pushing her face away as Tevos had just done. The soul of the feat was akin to moving a mountain.

Naturally, Aria defiantly came to face her again before pushing herself up from the bed, slipping out of the arms draped about her neck, and issuing the councilor one final, lingering look while leaving her room. Tevos quietly waited for the faint sounds of armor plates knocking against each other as they adhered and fastened into place, the opening of a window, its distinct click upon shutting, and the silence that followed. Only then was she was able to relax.

Awake and alone, Tevos was torn between resuming sleep and leaving the comfort of her bed to erode some of endless work piling up at her private terminal. While deliberating with herself, Tevos discovered a peculiar feeling of deprivation. Satisfaction spoiled by a longing for something more.

Something ate at her. Something beyond the curious fingertips that had traced over the archaic symbols of wisdom and importance that ornamented her back. Something that saw past the way Aria's hands had wandered over her hips, slowly and firmly and possessively, before hooking her thumbs into the robe that still clung to Tevos's waist and tugging it downward against the councilor's secure, intentionally taunting grasp. She could've won the tiny war of strength, of course, but Aria left them in stalemate for far too long, as if bittersweet anticipation alone maddened her like no other force in the universe.

Aria had taken great pleasure in sustaining their mutual torture, asking if Tevos intended to use Aria to make up for years of self-neglect—and the suggestion vexed her, as planned. However Aria had not expected for Tevos to slyly accuse her of being _absolutely full of herself_ , to immediately believe that she had been the only one on her mind or in her bed.

_If I wasn't before, I will be now._ Tevos could still feel those words lavishly spreading through her body, but again they created dissonance after ravaging the depths and extremities of her flesh. Where did the cruel and vindictive Aria go each time? So suddenly vanishing into the night, unnoticed and unaccounted for, leaving behind a familiar who wasted ample time on building intimate desire, touching Tevos just how she liked, and abandoning all ambitions of sadistic control?

Knowing that she would relentlessly plague herself with her own thoughts if she tried to sleep, Tevos ultimately decided to rise and work at her terminal throughout the darkest hours of the morning.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

In the privacy of her vault, with no witnesses to her conversation with Eshedra save for her beloved vegetation, Vathesa stood with the salarian, positioned safely between two glass aquariums and bathed in white by the light shed by the bulbs in the ceiling. Mournfully she gazed at him, chest twisting in painfully profuse empathy and affection for her despairing companion. He held a hand to his face to shield his troubled visage from her, but failed terribly at that endeavor. She could see it all in the way he shook, in the way his haggard breaths framed his words.

"I just," he began, exhaling sharply in distress, "I-I just never thought it would come to this."

At last he brought his hand away from his eyes to stare at Vathesa. Their dark gloss pleaded to her, that the news they received just an hour previously was somehow a mistake, a cruel joke, a nightmare from which he would awaken at any merciful moment.

She tilted her head at him, feeling the emotion in his gaze contagiously tugging at her heart. Vathesa reached out to him with a gentle hand, taking his mangled one in her own to prevent Eshedra from concealing himself from her again.

"I'm sorry," she softly told him, stroking the deep scars carved into his hand with her thumb. "We tried, Eshedra. We tried for years, somehow believing that this would never happen. And I understand. I'm in shock too."

"We can still do something," he blindly grasped. "We can pick up everything and escape, maybe leave the station, head into the Traverse—"

"Eshedra," she stopped him. "We can't do that."

He broke beneath her meaningful gaze. "Then what can we do?"

"I've already told the others to start moving the patients. They'll be safe. But _we_ can't leave. I know she only wants us, not them. She's watching, but I know she won't act if others come and go. She'll only intervene if _we_ leave the building, and I don't want that happening at least until we have our affairs in order and have evacuated as many people as possible."

"Where are you sending them?"

"Somewhere safe, where they'll be taken care of. Now, I need you to do something for me too, Eshedra. I need you to start wiping all our data caches, all right? We have some time. She still needs to prepare."

He gave a shuddering nod. "I... I can do that, yes."

Vathesa caressed his face with her free hand. "Thank you. You've been such a tremendous help. Such an irreplaceable partner; loyal and dedicated and kind beneath all your contradictory insisting." She managed a smile. "I just want you to realize that we've contributed to something far larger than ourselves. None of this was in vain. We were here for this. We _mattered_ in the grand scheme of things. Someday a morning will dawn over a new society thanks to our sacrifices. And I'm happy for that."

He inhaled deeply, attempted to regain control over his frayed nerves and bravely face the fate he was imprisoned within. With a decisive nod he said to her, "I'll be here in the morning, right by your side. I'll be there."

"I never doubted you would be," she sweetly told him. "Whatever happens today... Just remember what we're doing this for. And don't lose your courage."

From a pocket in her dress Vathesa retrieved a small pistol, placed in the hand she previously held, and enclosed Eshedra's fingers around it. He accepted it after extending a timorous arm and hooked the loaded firearm onto his belt. The peace of the early morning quivered with finality. It was too savored, too perfect and too dearly missed before it was even gone.


	19. Death of an Iconoclast

In one of Aria's private lounges, where the walls and furniture bled hellish hues of furious red, a gathering of high officers had commenced to review the results of a siege ordered the previous day at precisely 11:57 galactic standard time. The accuracy of the account was verified by the timestamp on Lieutenant Renaga's feed captured during the raid, whose evidence served as the centerpiece of their meeting. Evidence which she was presently transmitting to a wall-mounted monitor for her colleagues and sole superior to watch.

Eyes were unwaveringly upon her as Renaga waved her omni-tool to send the file forth. The eyes of Zuria, sitting mutely and rigidly upright; the eyes of Dissia, still entrenched far away in the Tuhi District and reduced to a undulant hologram presence; and the terribly, terribly cold eyes of Aria, who sat impeccably poised on a luxurious crimson sofa with her legs crossed and her fingers woven together to help bring integrity to the intense patience she had subjected herself to for the next several minutes. Her stare was like beacon of pain, penetrating Renaga's back even after the lieutenant had turned to escape that awful sense of perdition.

A shallow plate of cigarettes sat abandoned on a low table, untouched and dismissed.

Aria had already reviewed the entirety of the recording in great detail. There would be no surprises for her. There was nothing to view that she did not already know, but still she sat like a storm delaying itself, swallowing itself—an inherently unnatural state of negative entropy. And if Renaga knew anything at all about the core nature of the universe, it was that the ultimate course of procession always, _always_ favored chaos. The present quiet only betokened a future disaster.

The lieutenant returned to her seat as her record of the event began to play in all its amateurish, shaking glory.

It began at the door. A clear view of another operative's face as she swiftly braced herself against the exterior wall of the residence with two hands clutching a pistol. A focused glare creased her face as she banged her fist on the front door with a gloved hand. One demand was issued: for the door to be opened and their unit admitted, or it would become subject to force of the highest caliber required. Seconds elapsed. Renaga began issuing another command—but the door unlocked, hissed open, and Renaga's orders instantly transmuted into a call for a charge inward with assault rifles drawn and laser sights beaming forward. Only two strides were taken before the frame of Vathesa came into view. She was standing alone in her dim miniature foyer, surrounded by its rough metal scars acquired over ages past.

_"All right Vathesa,"_ Renaga's voice surmounted the sounds of treading boots and clicking armor plates as her unit assembled behind her. _"I need you to raise your hands and step forward."_

Slowly her hands were retrieved from her dress pockets. Vathesa's face was as empty and cheerless as the hovel following its evacuation.

She spoke. And as she did, a pistol was produced from her attire, grasped steadily in hand and leveled at the intruders. _"I'm afraid I can't do that for you."_ Her voice was soft, yet defeat tugged at its pleasant tone.

Four red dots danced on her chest. Renaga instructed her unit to hold their fire, and audibly retained her calmness when she replied to Vathesa, _"We don't have to do this the hard way. We can be courteous about this. Civilized. Or we could... not be. It's really up to you. Now I need you to drop your weapon and step toward us. Nice and easy."_

They exchanged no more words. Vathesa appeared to begin to lower her pistol as requested, only to capriciously raise it again. But she did not aim it at Renaga nor her allies. She pressed it to her own temple and with a twitch of a finger Vathesa was lost, her consciousness scattered like a meteor shower whose debris painted the walls a rich glistening violet. A distraught cry rang out from deeper within the building in response to the gunshot—a pathetic, mournful exclamation carried on the voice of a singular possible suspect.

Renaga loudly swore as Vathesa collapsed to the floor, convulsions still wracking her dying body.

_"Two people on her!"_ ordered the lieutenant as she began to rush forward. _"See if she's revivable! Everyone else on my tail, pursue the second target!"_

They obeyed. The visual feed on the monitor suddenly began to shake with the effects of motion as Renaga began sprinting forward. A figure—a salarian—dashed past the open hall toward the staircase, waving a pistol in his good hand as he sprinted but never seeming to ponder a use for it. The lieutenant went after him, feet pounding against the brittle stairs and eliciting shrieks and squeals from the steps as they ascended.

Shortly after emerging at the top of the staircase Eshedra was seen fleeing into a room. A door was immediately shut behind him and its lock displayed red. Renaga wasted not a single moment on hesitation; she verbally considered explosives, but resorted to overloading the lock. One of her mercenaries knelt forward to proceed.

For just a few seconds there was relative quiet. The unmistakable sound of water pounding the frail structure like a hail of spent shotgun shells resonated throughout the upper level, revealing to Renaga's unit that the environmental maintenance had initiated its routine cleansing of the area after previously dispensing over neighboring sectors.

With an electric pop the door's red lock flickered to green and Renaga was rushing in after one of her mercenaries, bolting for the opened window Eshedra had evidently escaped through. One of their number remained behind, inspecting the room to ensure the team had not been deceived.

The asari leading the pursuit was seen and heard dropping from the window and onto a fire escape that rattled at her landing and creaked upon her departure. She had caught sight of Eshedra again, who could be seen running across the barren roof of a stalagmitic spire and toward the distant eternal glare of Omega's core; their counterfeit sun. The visual feed was engulfed by its brightness, briefly, and furthermore on several other occasions when the angling of the camera embedded in Renaga's chestplate aligned just so. Clear water droplets began sliding down the lens, scattering the dreary vista to fragments of blemished color.

The mercenary vaulted herself over a gorge to expediently close the gap between herself and the target, cloaked in the eerie biotic glow that helped propel the massive leap. Renaga followed suit and touched down on the other side, her boots skidding on the slick roof. She recovered a prodigiously gyroscopic balance before shouting a directive to her mercenary. The asari under her command drew a gun and fired a single shot that bounced in a flash centimeters from Eshedra's heel. Biotics were employed next. A singularity tore itself into existence, ripping violently at the roofing as it swirled, bending and swallowing all incoming light. Being at the very edge of its field when the phenomenon appeared, Eshedra managed to frantically pull himself free.

Another gunshot, and another miss. Eshedra reached the edge of the roof with nowhere to go but down. He stopped his dash in preparation to descend a ladder and slipped on the gushing waters, scrambled wildly for recovery, but found himself tumbling down into the abyss as his mangled hand failed to grasp salvation. The sight was captured by Renaga as she joined her mercenary at the edge. A shout of raw gasping terror was wrenched from his lungs as he plummeted, only silenced when his body smashed against a protruding building below. A visceral crack, the sight of bursting flesh and bone, and the monitor went black.

No one in the private lounge initially spoke, not even Aria. At much length the image of Lieutenant Dissia wavered as she turned in Renaga's direction and asked her, _"Were any records salvaged?"_

"We managed to recover several items from their systems," Renaga solemnly confirmed. "Some contacts and past transactions. They're being reviewed as we speak. What's already been processed so far contain some transactions involving sales of the vahnis toxin. At the very least we have those."

"Yes," Aria said, "at the very least we have those." Her slow pace of speech, coupled with her refusal to meet the eyes of any another soul within the room, was chilling. "It was quite fortunate that Lieutenant Renaga didn't turn up completely empty handed." At last she turned her head and placed her burning gaze upon Renaga.

The lieutenant was made as still as stone.

"Come here and sit with me, Renaga."

She hesitated at first, but years of experience had granted her enough wisdom to never keep Aria waiting. The short, shameful journey to her sofa was made and Renaga sat down, facing Aria with her alert amber eyes.

Aria spoke quietly, leaning ever so slightly in Renaga's direction, "I told you I wanted Vathesa alive."

From where she sat, Zuria mentally shook her head at the scene unfolding before her. She knew all too well just what was in store for Renaga, and Renaga more than likely knew as well judging by the way the smallest nuances in her body language shrank away from Aria's dominating presence as their proximity increased. She pitied her.

"Yes," Renaga replied, "I... I truly acted to the extent of my capabilities at the time. The mission simply took a turn for the worse. It was unanticipated and there was little we could've done to prevent it."

Aria observed her for some time, neither frowning nor smiling, but maintaining the most neutral of expressions fathomable. She lifted an arm and laid it upon the back of the sofa behind her lieutenant, drew close, and said to her with the fidelity of a lover, "I wanted her alive, Renaga. I wanted to see what she knew. I wanted to just..." Aria's free hand slowly and stiffly bloomed from a fist into an opened palm, with her fingers curling like talons want of clutching something precious, "... _open her up_ and see what she had inside that little head of hers. But now she's splattered all over some shack in a dirty slum, and I can't have her."

While staring at Aria's fiercely empty hand, Renaga replied just as softly, "I'm sorry, Aria. I'll perform to standards next time."

"I know you will, Lieutenant," said Aria. She retreated from Renaga but did not excuse her just yet. Instead she turned to her other lieutenants who abided in respectful silence until dismissal. "Dissia, I still want frequent reports from Tuhi. And remember how I want them. You can go."

_"Of course, ma'am."_ Dissia's hologram collapsed and blinked from sight.

"Zuria," Aria secured her attention. "I'm sending you on an errand soon so don't go too far. But you can go for now. I want to keep Lieutenant Renaga to myself for a while longer." She returned her eyes to the named asari as Zuria nodded and took her leave.

Renaga's gaze remained upon her boss for the duration of their extended silence, with only the dull and bass-heavy throb of the club to fill the surrounding air. Aria's leg idly swayed upon the one it crossed. When she emerged from her cogitating, Aria turned back to Renaga and spoke as quietly as she had before despite their privacy. "When I arrived on Omega this morning I was expecting to find Vathesa wrapped up prettily, waiting to meet me. Our introduction was long overdue and I was looking forward to it."

She said nothing.

"You can just imagine my disappointment when I was informed that Vathesa was dead. Eshedra, too. And both arguably by their own hands. I was... furious." Aria brought her face back near Renaga's and reduced her volume to just above a whisper. It seemed to her, that if Aria spoke any louder, the true depths of her anger would boil uncontrollably forth. "I was _livid_. I had so much confidence in you, Renaga. I give you _so much_ , so often, and yet at times like this I can't help but wonder about whether you even want to reciprocate it."

" _Of course_ I do, Aria," Renaga softly replied, sounding incredulous as her gaze trembled against Aria's. "Of course I do."

Aria faintly smiled, but the incendiary rage in her eyes utterly betrayed the expression. "I'm relieved to hear that," she said. "Because I want to keep relying on you. But if something like this happens again, I won't be able to anymore. So you can see the difficult position you've put me in. This isn't easy for me, Renaga."

"I understand, Aria. Completely. And I promise you, you don't need to worry at all. It won't happen again. You have my word." Intent on further attesting to her value, Renaga oriented her body to properly face Aria before she offered additional, useful information. "I need to take the time to tell you this: when we were at Vathesa's residence, I noticed something unusual. Not only did we find all the plants in her sealed room scorched—still glowing with embers, even—the entire building was empty save for her and Eshedra. They must have known we were coming. But how? Who could've informed them?"

"That is precisely the errand I'm sending Zuria on," Aria said. "As I see it, there are a few possibilities. The most prevailing one being that someone out of the six people sent on the mission has crossed me for the first and final time. The other being that the teams weren't discreet enough and inadvertently revealed their intentions to someone spying for Vathesa."

"Doesn't the former worry you?"

By the look on Aria's face, the question appeared to be a waste of her time. "Do you see me wringing my hands, Lieutenant?"

"No, ma'am."

Aria said nothing more on the subject. Instead she receded deeply into thought, performing her cold calculus without the vaguest hint of concern ever crossing her features. Renaga beheld her in silence—wondering what designs were filling her head, and wondering if anyone else like Aria had ever existed, currently existed, or would exist. Sometimes she felt as though a specific compartment of the galaxy had been violently filled to capacity, growing so turgid that the simple conception of another Aria would burst the very seams of order.

She was maintaining an exterior calmness that Renaga found disquieting. The lieutenant had expected Aria to unleash her fury upon her the moment they were alone, but she had not. Not a single raise in voice, not one curse, not a lifted finger... just words of disappointment that burned for longer inside her head, though not as brightly. The mercy was magnificent, but all throughout their time spent in the private lounge Renaga had seen something different within her, just waiting to tear itself free of her body. Renaga knew not at what time or in what place it would manifest. Perhaps she was bottling it up for those who deserved it more.

Renaga had served Aria for many years now. She had seen battles that outsiders wouldn't believe, when Aria came down from her throne. She had seen Aria slip through enemy lines and dispose of a Blood Pack commanding officer, a krogan at least three times her total mass, in a matter of seconds. She had seen Aria rip through the framing of buildings as she fought her adversaries and emerge unscathed from infernos of wreckage, cloaked in biotics while bearing a look in her eyes that denounced all the gods of the universe in favor of herself. For that contained wildness, that intense and effortless focusing of catastrophe, was the reason why Renaga and so many others adored Aria. She always faced the horizon of victory, always steadily marching forward unhindered. For that they followed her, and for that they loved her.

At these wandering thoughts Lieutenant Renaga now felt exceptionally penitent for failing to deliver her quarries to Aria. She despaired, and would continue to until her debt had been repaid. She could only nervously imagine the extent of Aria's disappointment if she should fail her again.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

"With Illium importing eight hundred billion credits' worth of goods and services from the Terminus Systems just this last fiscal year—"

_"Eight point nine hundred billion, Councilor,"_ the Council's private forum VI corrected Estulius in its programmed pleasant inflection _. "Rounded to approximately nine hundred billion."_

"Yes, _nine_ hundred billion," he grumbled before turning back to the other two councilors, who both sat at the same circular table, listening to the turian councilor's stance on the current issue while taking notes to supplement the meeting's recording. The room, painted in soft modern pastels and populated by potted ferns native to Sur'Kesh, was otherwise completely empty save for the Council and their assisting VI. "And only importing approximately six hundred billion from Council space in that same category, the inversion of that proportion in terms of exports is gradually becoming more and more deleterious to Council space every year. Not only do we run an overall deficit in our business with Illium, but there is also the issue of losses through the black market. Almost thirty percent of documented contraband seized in our territories, when traced, comes from Illium. Compare that to all the worlds in the Traverse and we have identified a serious problem. One we cannot resolve due to our official lack of jurisdiction in that region."

"Illium has a luxury economy," Councilor Forlan said. "The Council does have a degree of jurisdiction insofar as the markets are concerned, given Illium's propensity for the best of both worlds; the quality and reliability of Council space goods, and the exotic riches of the Terminus Systems. The nature of Illium is in direct opposition to sumptuary limitations. They _will_ continue to rely upon our worlds for celebrity and corporate culture and validation as a functioning bureaucracy. If we want to manipulate trade with Illium—increased tariffs, sanctions, permits, however we might decide to approach—I would expect them to be relatively amenable."

"You are correct, Councilor," said Estulius. He rose to his feet and folded his hands behind his back, pacing slowly as he assembled his thoughts. "But I don't precisely mean to lead into a conversation regarding interference with the relationship between Illium and Council space. Not exclusively. There is the matter of Omega to consider as a viable alternative to direct intervention."

Tevos raised her eyes from her tablet, the final word she intended to write resulting in an abbreviation to free her attention for the topic now being discussed. She peered at Estulius with rejuvenated interest as she idly lifted her stylus to rest it against her jawline.

"Omega is a significant source of Illium's narcotics, indentured servants, and weapons," he continued. "All accounted for carefully by extensive paperwork, yes, but initial documentation does not necessarily ensure that continued status upon distribution."

"Councilor, it is inevitable to see a small proportion of these goods surreptitiously making their way into Council space," Tevos reminded him. "There is only so much that can be done in countermeasure."

"Of course," said Estulius, "but there is a certain amount of leverage with a select Omegan power that we might be able to invoke, that is, if we wished to curb some of our expenditures on crime."

Tevos could not keep herself from laughing briefly and softly, attempting to sound as polite as possible by holding her hand in front of her mouth while turning away. She lowered her stylus to the table and faced him again. "That is simply not a possibility," she said with a terribly faint smile, still taken by the apparent humor in the proposal.

"Why not? We have some means of doing so."

Upon realizing that he was serious, Tevos's expression rapidly descended into bemusement. "We _cannot_ attempt to impose restrictions in addition to those already agreed upon. It's… It would be in breach of contract. We would have to wait until the first agreement expires or needs to be renewed—"

"Next month," Estulius stated, placing his hands upon the back of his empty chair and appearing pleased with himself. He and Forlan both gazed at her anticipatorily.

The claim gave Tevos pause. After the instant of incredulity had passed she looked down at her tablet, accessed her calendar, and scrolled through weeks' worth of annotations until she came upon the date of interest. It was as Estulius claimed, but even so she shook her head with immutable certainly. "Be that as it may," she said, "it will not happen. Aria T'Loak would never have it. And she is not in a position where signing a document is vital to her continued survival. If the terms are unpalatable to her she _will_ walk away from it entirely. The state of the galaxy has changed since then, Councilor. That agreement is a mere ghost of what it once was."

"Our legal advocates are accomplished enough to skillfully weave new terms in, if discretion is an absolute necessity," said Estulius. "She can, or perhaps not, be privy to them upon signing."

"And what would happen if she violates the agreement?" Tevos inquired. "Are we to fine her? Will she pay said fines? And when she refuses, are we to send our fleets after her? There was a time when my government, as well as the Citadel's and by extension the other Council races', were nearly pulled into all-out war with Omega and its allies. If they passionately protested the prospect of war then, why would they ever risk antagonizing Aria T'Loak now, when she has nearly doubled in power and influence?"

He scoffed with some derision, although Tevos knew her point had held fast. Estulius retreated into a few moments of intense thought and only emerged with his inglorious surrender to her logic, "If we hold any treaty at all with Omega, why do we not use it effectively? Why do we allow it to degrade to the point at which it no longer has practical use? It's baffling to me. A complete misuse of a legal asset."

"It is a treaty of peace maintained by the Asari Republics, Estulius. You need not overly concern yourself with asari foreign policy."

His facial plating visibly drew into a frown. "I only concern myself with asari foreign policy when dealing with dangerous criminal entities pulls other species into the fray. And even then we are denied the privilege of supplying our opinions. Councilor Tevos," he looked directly at her, temporarily forfeiting any agreeability they had engendered between them for the sake of political deliberation, "we direly need to talk about Omega. We need to know what's been happening there, on your watch, and on Aria T'Loak's."

_"A reminder is being issued to the present councilors,"_ their VI suddenly chimed in _. "The topic of discussion, as agreed upon prior to this meeting, is finance and economics. Divergence from this topic may result in the following conversation being filed in a location incongruous with its contents—"_

"Someone mute that thing," Estulius muttered. Unfortunately, the VI was not programmed to accept commands which attempted to override its central purpose of moderating and taking record of their confidential meetings.

Seated pensively near the turian, Councilor Forlan concurred. "I'm afraid I'm of a similar mindset, Councilor Tevos. This whole investigation into Omega's affairs has incurred enough trouble for the Council to justify our inclusion. Your actions alone have been representing us all thus far."

"I can't discuss it in detail," Tevos began to explain. "I can only say that our Spectres are advised to not travel within the Sahrabarik system until further notice, but you are already aware of that. Anything beyond what I've previously told you is an issue you must take to my government. You will need to appeal to Asari High Command if you require my full disclosure."

"I'd rather petition them to abandon the effort completely," said Estulius.

"You are quite free to do so," Tevos said to him with mounting exasperation. It took a great effort on her part to retain her calmness of tone. "But that is a subject which we should not be discussing today." She turned to her tablet to consult her notes. "If I may, I would like to redirect this forum to the topic of our subsidiary—"

"No, Councilor," Estulius stopped her. "With all due respect, you have a terrible habit of changing topic whenever Omega is brought up. I'm afraid we can't let it slide this time. This _needs_ to be addressed, Tevos. Regardless of how competent you are, regardless of what secret progress you might have made or the special interest your government may have in all this, it must be said that we no longer have a substantial reason for lingering on that despicable station. Everything we have done was through Aria T'Loak! Her ban on our Spectres was lifted only when you appealed to _her_ , while the continuation of your investigation is dependent on _her_ permission... It's completely humiliating, Tevos. Haven't you any pride? It goes against the principles of the Council itself, to subject itself to the whims of a Terminus warlord!"

"Cooperation with Aria T'Loak is _essential_ to my investigation into Spectre Neora's death," Tevos defended herself. "Forcing ourselves onto Omega will not reward us with protection for our agents if they should attract unwanted attention while within Sahrabarik. Aria is fundamentally _shielding_ us from a war in that respect. Is that not worthy of me, to supposedly 'deign' to cooperation if it grants us security? Or is it more glorious to reject all shades of it and bludgeon our way forward, even if it results in a major conflict?"

"As I said before on countless occasions: all could have been avoided by never maintaining a presence there in the first place."

"If your memory had not already begun to fail you, Estulius," Tevos replied and immediately chastised herself for not containing the comment, "you would recall that our initial activity on Omega was to ascertain whether or not Aria T'Loak was in violation of contract—an investigation ordained by my government and passed onto myself."

"And she _wasn't_. Camala was the source of our outbreak, not Omega. So why continue to expend our resources by remaining? Are you waiting for the Hegemony's explicit confirmation?" He scoffed. "It'll be months before we hear from them again. Their government is fracturing as we speak and the official mandate is probably abandoned on a backlogged desk on Khar'shan, being rolled up into a cigar by some self-absorbed batarian dictator! And now what do we have on our hands? A murdered Spectre and public inquiry? The ordeal has cost us far more than what we could ever hope to gain!"

"And what is your alternative, Estulius?" the growing excitement in Tevos's voice abruptly diminished into bafflement. She looked at him as if he were mad. "Would you prefer to see a dangerous Terminus System faction—which we know _nothing_ about—freely expand unchecked, utilizing their unprecedented technology or biomechanical science to _reanimate corpses_ as they go along? A faction capable of capturing a _Spectre?_ Councilor Estulius, this isn't a matter of remaining decorous. This is a matter of galactic security."

There was a moment of tense silence before Councilor Forlan ultimately gravitated toward Tevos's perspective. "She's right, Estulius. My people do not wait until war is upon their doorstep to begin performing reconnaissance. We haven't the slightest idea about exactly who we are contending with and what the gamut of their capabilities might comprise. If we retreat from Omega, the danger we consequently place ourselves in is _at least_ commensurate with the danger we face by remaining."

"And you expect me to see that by pure inference?" Estulius demanded in contempt. "You expect me to confidently invest in a project whose details cannot be disclosed to me? I do not take blind risks, Councilors. If you expect me to be passively compliant with the invisible, with the _unknown_ , you are sorely mistaken." He addressed Tevos in particular. "Your government is demanding something outrageous from me. To allow a single race's officials to preside over an investigation that may jeopardize every constituent of the Council is reckless and selfish. I can only pray to the Spirits that you haven't undertaken more than you can handle."

Estulius excused himself from their conference, prompting their VI to state upon his departure, _"Logging out Councilor Kylris Estulius, 13:58 galactic standard time."_

Tevos sighed in exasperation while dropping her stylus to the table with a light clatter, then lifted her hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. She wasn't concerned about the possibility of Estulius requesting Asari High Command for clearance. Even if he tried, Tevos knew with certainty that his proposal would be rejected. The issue that caused her grief was the prospect of splintering relations with the other councilors, who had every logical reason to assail her with questions that she unfortunately could not answer. While misguided and lacking in perception, Estulius's criticisms were not wholly unjustified. She was asking a great, great deal from her fellow councilors; to wait patiently in the dark for unknown spans of weeks, for a declaration of progress that never seemed to arrive. His confidence in her was understandably waning.

He was wrong on yet another affront, but it was one that Tevos would not openly contest: the assertion that remaining on Omega any longer was a pointless endeavor. While the Council acknowledged Aria as a relatively agreeable representative of Omega (a status earned simply for the ability to hold a talk with her _at all_ ), they were not so convinced that Aria was worthy of preservation. The mere hypothetical scenario of diverting any amount of resources to the promotion of Aria's health would be met with immense aversion, Tevos knew. Outside of herself and Asari High Command, the very notion was vulgar.

At that moment Tevos recalled something Irissa had recently said to her, regarding the implications of influencing the fate of so distant a world. Was she tipping the natural order of things to wild unbalance? What if Aria was meant to die now—the idea chilled her—in accordance with Omega's constant cycling of ruling warlords? She shook herself free of the thought. Aria would live, with or without her aid. The process was simply being expedited to both of their conveniences.

To her right, Tevos noticed Councilor Forlan gathering his tablet and its accompanying datapad from the table in preparation to leave as well, seeming to deem the remainder of the meeting pointless without their intact triumvirate. Before he left, however, he paused to address Tevos, "Councilor Tevos, while I am in agreement with Estulius on several matters I would inform you that you still have my support. I would be a fool to not be a proponent of this, especially when facing the potential development of biological warfare technologies. If my ignorance is required in order for you to continue investigating this, I will comply for as long as I rightfully can. And in the meantime, should you require additional aid, I'm certain STG can lend you some of their most capable agents."

Tevos smiled politely. "Thank you. That is a great consolation to hear, but as to the offer of STG I would have to respectfully decline."

Admittedly, Tevos knew STG to produce some of the best Spectre candidates the Citadel had ever seen. But she could not accept anyone from their ranks, not when there existed a considerable chance of leaking gathered intelligence to their superiors.

They left the conference room, listening to the VI log them out, store the encrypted record of their meeting, and power off. After their rendezvous with their respective assistants and light C-Sec guard the two councilors parted ways in the Embassies, at which time Tevos heard the chime of her omni-tool. She did not check the message until she was within the safety and privacy of her office.

Upon taking a seat at her desk she opened her inbox and read the brief contents of her newest message:

.

TO: CLR. TEVOS N'VANI  
FROM: ARIA T'LOAK  
SUBJECT: Update

Vathesa and Eshedra are dead. A few new leads were left behind. We'll discuss them later.

.

At the very least, Tevos thought wearily, Aria was comfortable with updating her more punctually than before. That soothed her somewhat. Not enough to stave off the remnants of all the frustration that had accrued during her conference with the Council, and not enough to mend another dreadful setback in their efforts, but _enough_ to put one dilemma to rest.

For the next hour Councilor Tevos worked tirelessly at her desk, attending to various documents, applying her signature to paperwork with pressing due dates, and sending and returning calls to her various correspondents and assistants. Her busy state was only interrupted when a particular message, standing prominent against a drab sea of political and business parlance, seized her attention at the first glance. Tevos accessed the messaged as soon as she spotted it.

.

TO: [REDACTED]  
FROM: [REDACTED]  
SUBJECT: No Subject

Madam Councilor, your infiltration unit has amassed a body of knowledge containing possible locations which your target may inhabit. I would speak to you on these matters via vid comm at your earliest convenience within the next two hours, after which I will become unavailable until the same time tomorrow. I sincerely apologize if this time frame diverts you from your important engagements in any way.

Enclosed is the unique contact identification number for the communication console I currently have access to.

With utmost respect,

S.

.

Tevos made haste, swiftly completing the few tasks she was currently immersed within to free herself. After organizing her desk back to coherence so that she would not find herself disoriented upon her return, Tevos disembarked for the nearest available comm room with her light C-Sec escort trailing behind her throughout the short journey down the hallway. They remained on guard just outside the room while Tevos activated the console, referenced the number Shiala had given her, and sent her call across the wide voids of space to somewhere on Omega.

Just a minute passed before Benezia's acolyte appeared before her and greeted the councilor with a small bow of her head. To Tevos's eyes she was almost initially unrecognizable, primarily due to her attire. The dismal colors and geometric planes of fabric and rugged armor were well within Omega's prevailing styles, and successfully portrayed the upstanding individual before her as no more than a common mercenary from the Terminus Systems.

"Greetings, Shiala," Tevos said to her. "I understand you've discovered something during your time on Omega."

_"Yes, Madam Councilor,"_ Shiala humbly answered. _"We are currently in the midst of corroborating information that may indeed lead us to Eruam Anikot. We have exactly two legitimate sightings confirmed from an outside source, and I believe we've successfully obtained record of the moment when Anikot froze his accounts and opened new ones. We did this the laborious way, unfortunately. Following the time at which his account activities ceased we analyzed all new accounts being opened over the course of the following week and attempted to cross-reference them. We narrowed it down to male batarians who had applied for new IDs, banking accounts, and visas, all within a short period of time of each other. Perhaps I should not be exhausting you with the details. Summarily, Councilor, three people fit our criteria perfectly and we will investigate them personally starting tomorrow to confirm a facial match."_

Tevos was delighted by the news, believing it a much-desired counterbalance to the failed mission Aria had reported. "That is excellent, Shiala. That is _excellent_ indeed."

_"Although approaching them may prove difficult,"_ she said. _"Two of them are members of small coalitions established in the Zeta District. They're mobile and without documented ownership of property at this time. We may be forced to extract additional information from their associates or the businesses they routinely extort."_

The councilor paused at this dilemma. Shiala subjected herself to a respectful and patient silence, understanding Tevos's need to contemplate their position at length. She folded her hands behind her back and paced a few steps, drawing out the clicks of her heels through slow, gradual strides. Flickering light that composed her agent's body illuminated the austerity spreading across her features.

She and Aria had endured too many setbacks thus far. Too many leads had prematurely burned out, leaving them grasping at tendrils of lingering smoke to no avail as their enemy vanished just as suddenly and completely. Time was running short; on Aria's end, and on Tevos's end as well, where her lack of tangible success was causing the Council's faith in her to rapidly decay. Anikot _needed_ to be apprehended at all costs and placed in Aria's waiting hands, ready to peel open her detested traitor and unveil the identity of those shadowy assailants in the dark corners of Omega. And it needed to be done before the resounding consequences of their enemy's evasion swallowed them whole.

Anikot was too vital an opportunity to jeopardize. He was worth any cost.

It might have been drastic on her part, to have responded to Shiala as she did. It might have been drastic, or it might have been necessary. Tevos found herself unwilling to make the distinction, if solely for her own health. When she decided their course of action she delivered it with a degree of determination so absolute that she scarcely recognized her own voice in those few moments.

"I have bestowed upon your unit authorization similar to that granted to Spectres," Tevos said. "And you may act while similarly unimpeded by law and convention. I _will_ protect you from any and all forms of indictment if it should ever come to that." She beheld the nonplussed, albeit obedient expression forming on Shiala's face. "I want this man found, and I want information of his whereabouts discreetly leaked to Aria without her becoming aware of our involvement. And I want you to employ any means necessary to accomplish this mission."

Shiala still sounded mildly stunned when she replied, _"...Of course, Madam Councilor. It will be done as you've said. We are very much prepared to act outside Citadelian customs, if that is what is required of us."_

Shortly thereafter their call came to an end, and Tevos reemerged from the room feeling remarkably resolute in her decision.

When she returned to her office and retook her chair whose positioning broke through the wash of Presidium light that poured in from the wide windows, Tevos postponed returning to her work for several long minutes. Instead she spent them ruminating in silence, with her legs crossed beneath her desk and her hands folded neatly together, thinking about the implications of her directive and all its possible future ramifications.

But one stray thought continuously resurfaced in her mind, incessantly prodding and morphing into forms that better seized her attention. It was a selfish prayer, one repeating thought echoing over and over, so similar and familiar to the ones borne whenever her Spectres were sent forth from the Citadel's bays: she profoundly hoped that Shiala would never have to speak of what she or her unit had done to complete their mission, as Tevos had no desire to know. She only wished to hear of their success. Not of the bodies that lay broken in the streets, not of the screams nor fires of violence. Merely their success, sterile and weightless.

She wondered if the overwhelming drive to obviate all things hindering her from progression that coursed through her veins now was the same force that possessed Aria on so many occasions. And she wondered how she would feel when the dust settled over the torn and terrible battlefields they had wrought, once it all came to an end.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

A pair of hands labored to organize a small array of necessities on her bed—just enough for a day or two as to not weigh herself down and without making herself overly vulnerable to the risk of being caught without supplies if something should go amiss.

Liselle swiftly retreated to her closet and retrieved her boots from its floor. She placed them at the foot of her bed and directed her attention to her roll of gauze; still plentiful even after her ordeal in the mercenary headquarters. During her packing and unpacking she discovered that she was still in possession of Malak's small metal lighter, which she found at the very bottom of her pack and buried beneath her small case of emergency painkillers. She resolved to return it to him at the next opportunity to better nurture the newfound cordiality in their relationship.

She was so completely invested in her chore that Liselle never noticed how her hands shook the entire time.

Following the mission at Vathesa's outpost, Aria had ordered both Sehtor and Eingana to remain in their districts of residence until further notice. The emptiness of the hovel, discovered by the team led by Lieutenant Renaga, was seemingly carefully orchestrated in a way that could not be explained by a scenario other than an tip-off. The very same could be said about how Vathesa had shot herself with almost rehearsed, mechanical intent. Thus, it was not unreasonable to believe that Aria intended to interview each of them in hopes of isolating the source of the intelligence leak.

The imminent interview itself was of little concern to Liselle. Above it and all other obligations to the syndicate, Liselle was most inconvenienced by the _time_ it would take.

It had been her hope to immediately disembark into the Tuhi District as soon as their business with Vathesa and Eshedra had concluded, yet it dragged on to an unknown extent. Consequently, Liselle was charged with an insatiable restlessness that had her unremittingly pacing through her apartment and preparing for a journey she should already have been on. As Wasea had warned her, with every wasted second the likelihood of Samesia Trakas—the asari likely to be in possession of knowledge pertinent to Liselle's heritage—being alive or foolishly remaining within the chaos of the Tuhi District rapidly dwindled.

And if Liselle's restlessness had already been unbearable enough, the knowledge of Vathesa and Eshedra's sudden deaths haunted her unceasingly. The report had been so grisly, yet so detached and cold as if the information was mere logistics rather than two people whom Liselle had met and spoken to just hours previously. She knew it was her own naiveté that caused her disturbance. She knew it was just another small but harsh incident in the grand machine of Omega, but she repeatedly failed to eliminate the malicious link between the event and her own personal experience.

While setting her guns on her mattress, gazing at their metals and wondering if she would ever pull their triggers and cause them to grow hot, Liselle heard her omni-tool alert her of an incoming call. She checked the ID of the caller upon lifting her wrist, and was greatly perplexed to read in the orange glow: _Telycialux Daus_. Immensely curious, she answered the call.

"Hello, Daus?" she said.

_"Kasantis! I, um, I'm in some trouble—"_ he replied. He sounded short of breath, and the audio was riddled with various shuffles and pops that suggested he was in motion. _"Do you recall that I was responsible for… for bringing Vathesa some of her residents? Well, they sure as hell remember where I lived."_

Liselle's eyes widened.

_"I'm—shit—They came to my place, took a few shots at the windows—"_

"Where are you?" Liselle asked, taking several long strides to her own windows. She parted the blinds with a pair of fingers and peered through them at the streets beyond her building.

_"Upper Gozu—heading south toward the junction of Eran and Opatam street—"_

A shock of urgency coursed through her body. "Turn there! Turn there, onto Eran, and head east! I'm there, I can hide you in my place!" She waved her arm in conjunction with what was said, despite him being unable to see her.

She heard him give a ragged breath in relief. _"Fucking Spirits, Liselle, I owe you one—!"_ He spoke again after few seconds, _"All right, coming up on Eran… I don't think they saw where I went but I don't want to stick around for them to figure it out…"_

Liselle strained to locate him among the traffic. It was easy enough, once he drew close; the sight of a turian man sprinting through the sparse crowds as if he were on fire led him to be identified immediately. "Okay, keep coming this way! It's the building just to your left once you reach the fork—but not through the lobby! Try the fire escape onto the second floor and go up from there."

He did as she instructed, soon vanishing from her sight after heading to the side of the apartment complex. Liselle peeled herself away from her window and hurried to her front door. "Go up to the fourth floor," she told him. "And go all the way to the end, and look for the address 357. I'm unlocking my door now."

_"353,"_ she heard Daus breathlessly reading the numbers to himself as he reached her hall, _"355… 357."_

Liselle saw her lock disengaging, accompanying some muffled sounds from just outside her apartment. Daus pushed himself into safety the moment the door was ajar enough for his wide collar to pass through, and stumbled a few steps before coming to a full stop in the main sitting room. He bent over, clutching at his knees with his hands and panting in exhaustion. Meanwhile, Liselle poked her head out into the hallway, checking to make sure Daus had not been pursued this far. When she found it quiet and empty, she retreated back into her abode and closed and locked her front door.

By the time she had turned back to face Daus he had nearly caught his breath and was rising to his full height, shaking his head equally at his misfortune for being targeted, and at his fortune for finding Liselle available and capable of saving his hide.

"Shit," she cursed in strange amusement at his situation, looking his enervated form up and down in a subconscious attempt to gauge how far he had been forced to flee on foot. "Who were they?"

"Just some of the people Vathesa sent away before Renaga stormed the scene," he said, placing his hands on his hips and giving a few final heavy breaths. "I guess they figured out who I really still work for. Probably wanted some revenge for Vathesa."

"Then they're a serious problem," she emphatically told him. "If they know where you live, they're just going to wait until you go home. You can't go back with them still out there."

"I know." A grimace appeared on his unpainted face. "I have to tell Aria about this. See what she can do—I mean, maybe if she can catch these guys she'll find out something useful from them."

"It's definitely worth a try," Liselle agreed. "Aria's not going leave you like this, Daus. I know she won't. She'll do something about it."

"Yeah," he said, bringing up his omni-tool to hastily type out his message. After sending it, the device faded from view and the two subjected themselves to silence.

Liselle watched Daus as he took a moment to scrutinize his surroundings with his dark eyes, taking in the sight of her furniture, glancing up at the lights embedded in the ceiling, and into the clean and modern kitchenette. The apartment was by no means palatial, but it was still certainly the envy of many Omegan denizens, including himself.

"It's uh—a nice place you got here, Kasantis," he complimented her. "Good location, too. I wanted to move around here a few years back, but my wallet couldn't handle it."

"Yeah, thanks," she said, preferring not to encourage any specific questions about her living situation or source of income. "So, do you want anything? I mean, I don't exactly entertain guests often." She idly rubbed her shoulder with a hand. "And I don't keep any dextro-safe food around, but if you're thirsty I have… water."

He managed a smile. "Actually, I could go for some water after all that running," he said, still sounding a bit hollow.

She led him into the kitchen where he pulled out a chair and sat at her small table connected to the partition that separated them from the sitting room. By only slightly craning his neck he could peer over the divide and at the sofas. When Liselle returned she set down a tall glass of water before him, appearing somewhat abashed at her own lack of refreshments. He thanked her anyway as she took the seat on the opposite side of the table.

"So, I know our initial introduction was fairly brief," Daus began after taking a long drink of water, but gave her a disclaimer before he continued with that thought. "By the way, I'm mostly saying this because I feel like I at least owe you a conversation for saving my neck. Anyway, I wanted to tell you that you did really good on the mission. I was expecting to be there for at least three days, but you have sharp eyes and a good memory to have identified that vahnis thing. Speaking of that…" The volume of his flanging voice suddenly decreased, as if in wariness of someone overhearing, "Is that really what they used when they tried to kill Aria?"

Liselle was reluctant to answer. Instead of confirming his question, she merely stumbled over her words, "Well, uh, that's really not… I don't know if I, um…"

"Rasma Visiom told me about you," Daus said, causing Liselle to grow tense in anticipation of what exactly Rasma had said to him. "She told me that you have an abnormal amount of clearance. She doesn't know why, but obviously it's for a good reason. Who knows—maybe Aria tells people certain things here and there to improve the chances of someone making a connection like you did. If that's the case, it's working. I don't always understand why Aria does some of the things she does, but I know, that she knows what she's doing. I guess it's better if we didn't talk about that."

"I would really prefer not to," she gratefully agreed while adjusting her posture in the chair.

He wryly smirked for a moment. "Fine with me. So, Liselle, how long have you lived on Omega?"

"I was born here," she answered. "My mother worked for Aria for decades and I followed."

"So you were born here? I was too."

A question formed in her mind, extrapolated from his admission. "Is that why you have no..." Liselle gestured to her face to illustrate.

"Is that why I don't wear any colony markings? Yeah, that's why. A lot of turians born here like to compensate with skulls or their gang insignia, though. I might decide to go with something in the future. Aria's Omega-born turians like to stylize her initial but... I don't know." He shrugged, amused at his own inability to commit. "I'm sure Vathesa's people appreciated seeing a bare-faced turian more than one with 'Aria' painted all over his face." Daus laughed, and was pleased to see Liselle doing the same. However, he soon sobered as a thought occurred to him. "Hey... did you happen see the vid? The one from yesterday?"

"The one from the... raid?" Liselle cautiously asked.

"Yeah. I can't believe Vathesa killed herself," said Daus, solemnly glancing downward at the water remaining in his glass. "And Eshedra ran like a damn coward. But why the hell did they do that? If they had only let Aria take them in without a fight, I bet they'd still be alive! Aria can't kill all her prisoners. If she did then no one would ever surrender when she gives them the choice! It just doesn't make any sense to me."

Liselle produced a grim speculation on the matter, "Maybe they were just that loyal to their cause. Maybe they thought dying was worth it, if that meant keeping information away from Aria."

"You're probably right." He swirled the water around in deep thought, and eventually decided to share what plagued him. "It was... hard, to watch. I didn't think I would have ever felt this way about it, but after years of spying on them, getting to know them as people just trying to get by day in and day out..." He sighed. "I guess I spent too much time there. I can't afford to pity the people who had a hand in trying to assassinate Aria. And they _were_ involved somehow—why run if they weren't?"

"I think I know what you mean," Liselle told him in consolation. "When I saw the vid... I felt bad too. I didn't know Vathesa or Eshedra for as long as you did, but even with their ultimate goal considered... I don't genuinely feel like they deserved to die." She stared at the table in front of her as if her own feelings were foreign. "Held in imprisonment, maybe, to shut Vathesa's operation down, but not _dead_. She told me what she did. How she takes in people and tries to nurse them back to health or raise money for their medical procedures. So now where do all of those people who once depended on her go? Are they going to die too? I think that's what's been bothering me the most. Knowing that Vathesa's death wasn't the death of just one person. I feel like we could've avoided that."

"That's _exactly_ how I feel," said Daus, sounding profound. "Spirits, Liselle, you don't know how good it feels to hear someone else say that. I've been kicking myself all morning just for feeling guilty. My only hope is that when all of this is over, when we win, this won't have to happen anymore. I think Aria's leading us in the right direction. Getting there is going to be rough, but we'll get there."

She nodded in agreement. As she did, the abrupt buzz from her door sounded. She rose to her feet with utmost caution and alertness, gesturing to Daus to conceal himself until she was able to confirm that her visitor was friendly to them both. He took her advice and sat down against the partition, obscured from the front door's view. Liselle checked the camera feed at the side of her door to assess who waited outside. She was relieved to see a familiar and harmless face, and granted her entry without delay.

"Liselle," Zuria, clad in her dark plated armor, greeted Liselle with a smile as the door disengaged into the wall. "How've you been?"

"Zuria! It's so good to see you," she cheerfully said and stepped aside to let her former mentor inside. Zuria was about to speak when a realization struck Liselle like a halberd. She abruptly interrupted the elder asari to instruct Daus to come out of hiding, fearful that Zuria would reveal something confidential if she remained ignorant of his presence.

He did as she said.

"Telycialux Daus?" she said, puzzled by the sight of him emerging from the kitchen.

"Lieutenant," he said, formally standing at attention.

"Daus, is this your district of residence?"

"Yes ma'am. I live only two kilometers away, approximately."

She continued to eye him with suspicion. "Very well. Unfortunately I'm going to have to ask you to leave now. I need to speak to Liselle Kasantis in private."

"Right away," said Daus. Noticing the objection swiftly forming in Liselle's features, he said to her, "I'm going to lay low in Afterlife for a few days. See if I can convince an old friend to house me for the nights. I'll be fine." Before leaving the apartment, he took the time to offer her, "Hey, if Aria still has us on lock-down tomorrow, you should come by. I'll buy you a drink."

A few seconds elapsed following his departure. When Zuria found the conditions suitable she addressed Liselle with an amount of exigency that surprised the maiden, "Liselle, what was he doing here?"

She was taken aback by the question. "He just needed somewhere to go for a bit, he was being followed by some—"

"Liselle, you need to be more prudent. What if he was the one who tipped off the targets? What if he was the traitor? You could've put yourself in danger by letting him into your home!"

Liselle had admittedly not considered the point Zuria made. Still, she stood by her actions with an acerbic retort, "Well I wasn't about to let him get murdered right outside my door!"

Zuria sighed heavily, deciding not pursue the argument further. "Liselle, just promise me you'll be more careful. Now listen—your mother has sent me to interview all of you. That's why I'm here. Now I hope you didn't disclose anything particular to Daus while he was here, but I need to ask you if you have any misgivings about any of the operatives composing Eingana or Sehtor. Did you see anyone acting suspicious, or having private conversations with any of Vathesa's residents?"

She searched her memory for such an occurrence. They both settled down on Liselle's sofas. "Well, no. I mean, I can't think of anything... Rasma and the rest of Sehtor recorded everything we said when we were in the building. We have vids, too. The only time we turned off our cameras for more than a few minutes was when we ate in the markets. Daus went off by himself for a while to find something dextro-safe, but I think he still kept his camera on most of the time."

"You mean there was a span of time where Daus had no alibi or record of his actions?"

"Maybe," Liselle conceded, then briefly withdrew into thought. "But that isn't definitive proof. We all had spans of time when we weren't accounted for. Anyone could've sent a message to Vathesa and no one would've ever known."

Zuria rose from her seat with folded arms, appearing perturbed. "You're right, Liselle," she said after deliberating with herself. "It's what's hurting us right now. We don't have any good evidence. We've looked through everything your teams recorded, and there's nothing. Nothing that even so much as hints at what could've gone wrong. Aria's having a fit. Well, as far as _her_ fits go. We're just trying to stay out of her eyesight today... So _my_ assignment is gathering testimony." She said the word with a small inflection of disdain. "More like praying to Athame that a few stories don't coincide and working from there."

Liselle tentatively asked her, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Just... please, Liselle, just stay safe." Zuria looked at her with parental concern. "I can't tell you to not invite Daus over or have drinks with any of your coworkers. Goddess knows you need some friends to talk to. Err—no offense. But at least do your mother and me the favor of keeping a wary eye on them."

She nodded in acquiescence. "Hey," Liselle began. "I've been meaning to ask you; do you think you'll have any spare time soon? For a card game, maybe?"

Zuria's folded arms fell to her sides as she gave an answer that disappointed her as much as it would Liselle, "Oh, I'm sorry Liselle. I'll try, but I really can't promise anything. Aria has us busy. But I'll let you know as soon as I can, all right?"

"Sure," she said, doing her best to stifle signs of her dejection.

The lieutenant approached Liselle for an embrace, which the maiden gladly returned. "You did well yesterday, Liselle," she told her. "You have to be more careful, but you did well. We would've seen the vid of the vanhis ourselves, but letting us know early might've denied Vathesa the amount of the time it would've taken her to wipe all her records completely clean. We have some valuable information because of you, yet again. Keep this up and you might even impress your mother." Zuria playfully touched her cheek with a thumb.


	20. Uncruel

The nonchalance with which Ambassador Irissa allowed herself into Tevos's office that morning was typical, albeit to the councilor's chagrin nonetheless. The earlier petitions had already contributed to her increasingly ill mood, originally caused by Estulius's umbrage taken at Tevos's stance on the matter of Omega as stated the day before. If Tevos had been spiteful enough she would've labeled it an inability to reconcile himself with reality, but instead she held her tongue and allowed Estulius's discontent to infect every statement obliquely aimed at her, content with hoping that he would retrospectively realize just how puerile he had seemed before the public. Perhaps that was spiteful too, she had considered, but cared very little.

When Irissa walked in after exchanging a pleasant word and wave with Eleni, Tevos looked up from her terminal and its accompanying datapads in mild irritation. She _truly_ needed to tell her attaché to forewarn her about Irissa's impromptu visits, if only to spare herself the surprise.

The asari councilor scanned Irissa with her eyes, eventually resting her gaze upon a datapad clutched safely in arm.

"Good morning, Tevos," Irissa greeted her as she arrived at the front of her desk. "Haven't talked to you in a few days. Busy?"

"Very," she replied. Her attention was still fixed upon the datapad. "Do you have something for me?"

"I do." Irissa deposited the device in her hands after checking to see if its interface displayed the proper information. "It's a petition from the Wards, and I've taken up its representation. The amount of signatures have well exceeded the minimum requirement to be made into an official proposal—you can see the exact number right here—calling for a new measure to be set in place by the Council. Two signatures from the Council will place it on next month's ballot. Three can get it appealed in the Council Chambers _next week_."

Tevos began skimming the document to ascertain its fundamental purpose.

"The proposal is, said simply, a reformation for our immigration policies," supplied Irissa, seeing Tevos grow increasingly studious of the text. "The political instability of Khar'shan right now is driving too many people from the Hegemony and onto the Citadel. There's also an ongoing influx from Omega that we need to worry about on the side. You see, we need stronger regulations; just this month we've already exceeded our maximum sustainable population growth for the _entire_ year, by an estimated ten thousand. We might very well be on the verge of a population crisis, as our models projected a few weeks ago. That is, if we can't pass a measure such as this to reduce numbers."

While pensively reading the closing portion of a long and detailed paragraph, Tevos quoted, "'The express deportation of all individuals without active visas or permits of temporary or permanent Citadel residence, to their most recent location of legal inhabitancy regardless of owned capital at the date of arraignment...'"

"You have approximately three days to read it at length, of course," Irissa told her. "But that's the essence of it. We really need to take action here, for the health of the Wards and the economy. I sympathize with these people, I do, but it simply isn't sustainable. Crime has been on the rise lately, Tevos. I would solve this problem before it grows too large to handle. You see, in the next section it describes how we'll go about this. It's quite clear and systematic. We'd have to sink a lot of money into this project to sort everyone out and fund the transportation, but it would be well worth the cost over the long run. Also, as it states _here_ , imprisonment periods when needed cannot exceed three days. It's very forgiving, I'd say."

"My largest concern is, naturally, the ethical implications of sending people back to regions of space from which they've essentially fled." Despite the plentiful time given to her for reviewal of the proposal, Tevos continued to scrutinize its contents in the present. "Could this possibly be interpreted as...," she briefly trailed off to articulate her thoughts, "Wartime evacuation? But, no, at present it's the _fear_ of war in the case of Hegemony immigrants, in actuality... I don't believe that clause would hold up..."

"It has overwhelming support already," Irissa reported. "Polls sway heavily in its favor."

Tevos raised a skeptical brow. "If that's true, then it must have garnered considerable support from our own people. An extremely peculiar thing to see. The asari are often the first species to leap at the chance to provide aid for misfortuned races. Why is this different?"

"Well, it's likely because this measure shall affect _batarians_ more than any other demographic. A bit sinister to know, yes, but after more than a thousand years spent trying to reconcile that insular, caste-divided culture with the standards of the rest of the galaxy, and after enduring incident after incident, it would be safe to assume that our people are no longer as forgiving as they would be without that context. Estulius and Forlan both signed just before I came here. It _will_ be brought to a ballot. With your signature the process can be expedited, much to the delight of Citadelian asari, I'm sure."

A sigh departed Tevos. "So there is widespread support... And I see that each councilor's signature, or lack thereof, will be made public. Quite wonderful." She placed the datapad on her desk and brought her hand to her mouth, resting it there as she pondered her options.

While almost exactly within the middle of her term's tenure, Tevos could not deny the fear of seeing herself further within the role of a dissident, providing her partisan support with even more reasons to defect to other politicians who acted and presented themselves as desired. Her most pressing concern, however, was a few rare historical accounts of asari councilors being suspiciously removed from office after a period of diplomacy highly disfavored by Asari High Command, usually on charges of embezzlement or some other sudden and unexpected transgression. Tevos could still recall watching the broadcast of one such occasion as a maiden. Centuries later, the haunted, sleep-deprived look on the previously-beloved matriarch's face as she was escorted from the Embassies, illuminated nearly into pallor by a hall of camera drones and their harsh lights, made all the sense in the universe.

Privately, Tevos wondered at what point she would cross that threshold. On how many occasions could she afford to vote contrarily to her people's, or High Command's wishes before she fell from their good graces? The situation was fundamentally a balancing one; a long and arduous road during which battles were carefully selected, and not always with the intention of winning them.

_I am more than an official acting representationally_ , she silently reminded herself. _I am still an individual, and my agency is my own. But what is better, in truth? To align myself with the very much legitimate will of the majority, or to act in accordance with my own instincts? Are there times for each, and if so, how can I distinguish them?_

If only there existed some formula or algorithm to inform her of when each was appropriate. When to let small ships sink in favor of the larger ones? When to cull the few to accommodate the many? Such a thing probably existed in some dark corner of the extranet.

"I don't think I can sign this, Irissa," she voiced her doubts. "I find some of these peripheral terms disagreeable."

"As I said, Tevos," Irissa spoke again, "you have some time to consider it. But I really wouldn't pass on this one if I were you. This one has a lot of attention, and I doubt they wouldn't hold it over your head for any less than a decade."

"Yes," Tevos said a tad too sharply. "Thank you, Irissa. You will hear from me again within that time. Is there anything else, or may I return to my work?"

The ambassador appeared to have been harmed by her words. "Well, all right then," she replied with a raise of her brow, wondering how she had offended Tevos.

She exhaled, closing her eyes for a moment and stopping Irissa before she could turn to depart. "I'm sorry for sounding cold, I've just... There have been many matters demanding my attention lately. I suppose I have a lot on my mind and I'm not precisely amenable to the idea of taking on any more tasks."

"Understandable," she replied, then paused. Irissa's eyes had drifted to a particular region of Tevos's face. Not her eyes nor mouth, but somewhere to the side. As she gazed at whatever had captured her interest, she occupied herself with her own thoughts until they culminated into a statement. "I mean," she started again, returning her eyes to Tevos's, "at times I do worry for your health. After all, you're still a friend of mine and seeing you endure any type of trouble makes me wonder if there is anything I could do to help. When I notice these, um, signs, as I first did some days ago... If you ever find yourself... somehow unjustly disadvantaged or—" She inhaled while searching for a word, eyes darting back to where they had briefly lingered before, then quickly returning again, "inappropriately _perturbed..._ I'm certain I'm in a position where I could remove you safely from said circumstance."

Tevos eyed her questioningly. With each second Irissa spent speaking, she became increasingly unable to parse what she was attempting to communicate.

" _Safely_ , I stress, if the conditions are somehow disconcerting or compromising. I know how difficult dealing with these sorts of things can be, but you need not ever feel truly alone, trapped, or obligated to continue—"

"Irissa," Tevos halted her, utterly confused by her rambling. " _What_ are you trying to tell me? If something needs to be said I'm sure you can be more forthright with me."

She peered at her for a long while, but was unable to precisely reconstruct her thoughts into a more agreeable sequence of words. A summary was relied upon instead. "Simply, Tevos, if you are ever in need of personal help, I'm available, and contrary to popular belief I can be very protective of other people's affairs."

"I—Well, thank you for the offer, Irissa," Tevos said, still failing to grasp her meaning but deciding to release Irissa from her strange verbal flailing by pretending that she had. "I appreciate it."

Irissa gave an uncertain nod. Her eyes contained within them a notable amount of concern. "Of course. I'll let you get back to your work now. Maybe I will see you later, or sometime within the week."

She passed through the office's door and left Tevos to sit in confusion, forensically piecing together Irissa's bizarre statements in one last attempt to belatedly understand. It was evident enough that Irissa believed something was causing Tevos disturbance, and she had offered—what, comfort? But comfort to mitigate the effects of _what?_ That detail remained dreadfully unclear. But two pairings of words had caught Tevos's attention: _unjustly disadvantaged_ , and _inappropriately perturbed_. It was horrendously vague, but she extracted from it a sense of being named a victim to a virulent, yet undefined _something_. What an outlandish thing for Irissa to have said, she thought.

Tevos tapped her fingers upon her desk as she pondered, and was about to concede to the mystery before she strategically tilted her datapad toward herself at an angle, producing a rough but adequate reflection. In the deactivated face of the device she saw a small blemish of dark violet against her neck, close to her jaw and only noticeable to eyes of keen and nearby individuals. The collar of her dress, as opposed to the one she had worn the previous day to conceal the mark in its more obvious state, was low enough for it to be detected when Tevos had looked up from her desk. A dreadful sensation emptied her body of warmth all at once, and drove her to think for a lack of more eloquent terms to describe her dismay, _...Oh no. Oh no._

All too abruptly, she knew exactly what Irissa had been talking about. Every single word made perfect sense, and she nearly panicked.

_She thinks... She thinks Aria's been... coercing me._

It was tremendously untrue, but to have Irissa believe that _anything_ physical was occurring between them was certainly a cause to be very, very alarmed.

_She doesn't know. Not for certain. I could simply say nothing, or deny it if she approaches me with the question. But how do I explain what she saw today? If it comes to that, I suppose I would have to outright lie. Claim to be seeing someone entirely different? But then she would never leave me alone until she found out who..._

Tevos swiftly made a note to herself in her omni-tool, to contact Aria at the first available opportunity after the work day had ended. Once she had, Tevos's fingertips gravitated to the blemish in vexation, lightly touching the spot where Aria's teeth and lips had marked her and cursing herself for not having the sense to shove her away before any damage could be done. How stupid of them, she thought—stupid of herself, stupid of Aria...

So much contrast separated the affairs of night and day, perhaps, that they had forgotten the ease with which events from one could bleed into the other; and so swept up in the exhilaration of participating in the forbidden that they had tossed all notions of consequence out the window, arrogantly assuming they would only be discovered if they wanted to be.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

In the evening privacy of her home, Tevos had engaged herself in a lengthy conversation with Aria after first settling down into an armchair in her study and briskly typing out her introductory statement, _We need to be more discreet_.

For a time she sat intently gazing at the floor, waiting while her mind swelled with myriad thoughts. She crossed her legs, uncrossed them, laid her arms neatly along those of the chair's, and only left her seat to straighten a few books on her shelves when she noticed their slight displacement. By the time she had begun pacing, Tevos heard her omni-tool chime at the arrival of Aria's reply. She opened it and read: _Call me._

A live call to be sent from the Citadel to Omega was certainly pricey, but monetary expenses had never been an issue to either of them. The _true_ issue that had made Tevos hesitate was the danger of having the charge appear on record to the advantage of prying eyes. She defaulted to a line whose contact information was heavily encrypted, informed Aria that she was doing so, and sent her audio call.

When Aria answered, Tevos was greeted by an ungodly wall of sound; heavily thudding, carried by gritty lines of electronic synth, and frequented by lyrics of such aggressively explicit nature that she could scarcely see any realm beside Omega identifying with them.

_"Give me a minute,"_ she heard Aria say above the din. Tevos lowered the volume of her earpiece for that specified time.

At last Aria had removed herself from the reach of the music, providing Tevos an opportunity to remark, "A bit sordid, don't you think?"

_"You're just getting old, Tevos,"_ Aria replied. There was a bit more noise on her end. A moment of shuffling, then it too faded into ambient silence. _"I can't be too avant-garde all the time. I'm still a woman of my people. But you have my attention now. What do we need to be more discreet about?"_

Tevos began prudently, "Do you... recall two nights ago—?"

_"I do, in great detail."_

"Let me finish," she said, now immune to most of Aria's attempts at instigation. "Earlier this morning, Irissa came into my office and noticed _something_ you left behind. We can't be careless like this, Aria. As much as we might be enjoying ourselves I'm not going to continue if it means being as reckless as we've been about it. Irissa suspects, Aria. She suspects it's you." Her tone was softened by a twinge of fear.

Aria gave sharp breath of irritation. _"First of all, it's none of her fucking business knowing where you've been or who you're seeing. Second, why the hell would she suspect me of all people? Are you really that isolated?"_

She frowned and defended herself, "I have _plenty_ of contacts. The only way I knew that she suspects you was through her choice of words. She told me that she could help me if I needed an escape from—oh, how did she put it? An 'unjust disadvantage'? Simply, I could think of no other person who she could have possibly been referring to. She means _you_. She thinks you're... you're..." She searched in vain for a delicate term.

_"So let me get this straight,"_ Aria stopped her, understanding what Tevos had been unable to say. _"That ambassador thinks you've been allowing me on the Citadel and smuggling me past all your guards just so I can ra_ _—_ _"_ She abandoned her sentence for its absurdity and scoffed.

"Either... that... or I've become some sort of emotionally distraught sycophant."

_"Both are a bit extravagant, wouldn't you think? And why would she even have cause to believe I've been on the Citadel more than once lately?"_

"Irissa knows better than most about what we're capable of when we work together," said Tevos. "And the situation wouldn't be unheard of. Something exchanged for an investigation, something exchanged for the continuation of peaceful relations... She does, in fact, have a reason to believe so."

_"Then lie about it,"_ Aria told her. _"Lie for as long as you need to."_

The councilor sighed. "I will probably have to. I just need to come up with something—perhaps _someone_ —to divert her attention and make her believe that she was mistakenly confusing a... a harmless, albeit private relationship for your malice." She listlessly returned to her chair. "Goddess, Aria, I've been lying to everyone lately... I'm going to have to start carefully documenting it all if I want to keep my stories straight."

_"So what do you plan on doing? Find someone to hang on your arm for a while?"_

"It's the best course of action I can think of," Tevos replied. "At the very least I should try to be seen in friendly company. I never once thought I'd ever have a use for tabloid attention..."

Aria was quiet for a time, but eventually emerged from silence with an inquiry that greatly surprised Tevos, _"Do you want to stop?"_

"Do I want to—?" she echoed her question in comprehension, momentarily unable to grasp its meaning let alone piece together an answer. "I—no. No, as I said before, we only need to be more discreet about it."

Tevos felt a painful fidgeting within her, wrenching out the truth. No, she did not want to discontinue that feature of their relationship. It had crossed her mind, reflexively, but it was not what she ultimately desired. She _liked_ having Aria in her bed. She excited her, aroused her, and had awoken a previously dormant passion within her; the passion of desiring while being desired, and the thrill that accompanied the exploration of intimacy which reflected upon herself as much as it did Aria.

She redirected the question at her, more so out of curiosity than anything else, "Do _you_ want to stop?"

Aria's reply came without issue, _"Unlike you I'm in no risk of major consequence, and I'm perfectly comfortable with things as they are. So, no."_

Tevos lightly cleared her throat and searched for a reprieve from the current topic. "I also have a... concern, that I wished to speak to you about. Not associated with anything we just covered, that is."

_"Let's hear it."_

"Well, today I was introduced to a new measure intended to palliate the Citadel's immigration problem. Applications for residency have been flooding our agencies but they alone do not tally the actual numbers of new arrivals. We've well exceeded the maximum population growth deemed 'sustainable' for this year, and I've been informed that our immigration department will soon have to close applications completely, save for those exceptions where the applicant has been granted permission to speak to an ambassador. Most of the undocumented arrivals hail from worlds within the Batarian Hegemony, possibly in fear of dictatorship on the horizon, and I find myself unable to blame them directly. Others yet come from Omega. Are you aware of this?"

_"There has been activity in terms of both emigration and immigration recently, yes. Batarians going back to Khar'shan, batarians coming in from Khar'shan, various races leaving due to the gang wars, various races joining the gang wars... It's really nothing new."_

"Then you also must be aware of just how many return after originally disembarking for the Citadel." Tevos rose from her chair and began heading toward her desk. "Individuals from the Terminus Systems naturally face extreme obstacles when applying for residency on the Citadel. When we request their criminal records while reviewing personal information, they have none. And by _none_ I do not mean they've never committed an infraction. By _none_ I mean the records themselves are entirely nonexistent, and we are generally forced to reject their applications as a consequence. You might do well to invent at least a rudimentary system which documents the deeds of your denizens, Aria."

_"Absolutely not,"_ Aria said without hesitation. _"Do not put the onus on me to solve a problem you created. I'm not the one turning people away. I don't care what you've done or where you've come from. Omega has always been open to everyone and I'm not about to punish my station for no reason."_

She sighed, reached her desk, and lifted a datapad containing the proposal from its surface. "I suppose you still must credit me for trying."

_"Oh, I do. We'll see if you get any better at propositioning me in the future. I'm interested to see. So—you're signing that measure into law?"_

"I'm conflicted about that, actually," Tevos confessed. She gazed down at the proposal's glowing, countless orange lines of text which she had finished reading in completion a few hours previously. "There is an instinctual moral indignation within me that insists not to, even though the proposal's path to law seems inexorable at this point. I'm considering not signing it in protest. The Citadel might be the most accessible provisional home for the displaced, and without it they may find themselves caught up in the Hegemony's political clashes, which have the potential to turn violent very quickly. Of course, Asari High Command, as well as my partisan support, are probably not in agreement. I'd be gambling."

Aria seemed to take interest in the issue, evidenced by her invested tone of voice, _"Wait; you'd gamble partisan support and good standing with the entity from whom you derive your power and office... to protest a measure that's expected to pass? Tevos, that is_ asinine _."_

She took great offense. "Protest in the face of imminent consequence is not _asinine_ so long as it propagates a beneficial idea or statement about something."

_"And through what medium will that statement propagate? Who's going to be there to rally around it? The batarians? They aren't your citizens, Councilor. They can't vote on Citadel proposals. They can't even vote for_ you _when the time comes because they aren't asari."_ By the brief sounds filtering through her earpiece it seemed to Tevos that Aria was adjusting her position on the furniture item that held her, possibly out of agitation. _"You are going about this completely wrong. The gains from winning this battle are minimal while the losses could be incredibly detrimental. Your main priority should be the security of your office and nothing else, especially right now. Make High Command happy. Make them less inclined to give you trouble. Make matters easier for yourself. Which is worth more to you_ — _a handful of happy batarians, or a successful investigation into what killed your Spectre and might kill more in the future?_ _"_

A hand found her forehead, attempting to dam a headache as she tested Aria's words against her own convictions. They deserved at least that much preliminary credence. "Knowing that it shall pass, whether or not I'm in opposition," she mused aloud, fingertips gliding over the datapad and scrolling down to the blank line upon which her signature might occupy, "I suppose I cannot deny that the timing of my contrariety would be... less than ideal."

While she teetered on the precipice of choice Aria remained patiently silent, as if any comment she made might just as unpredictably pull Tevos back as it would push her forward. Possessed by a sudden rush of determination, Tevos applied her stylus to the line and allowed her signature to flow from its tip to the electronic screen. Within just a few seconds the deed was done and Tevos had switched off the device to remove her own name, reading more gaudily and ominously than usual, from her sight. She exhaled slowly, reporting to Aria with closed eyes, "I've signed it."

_"I knew you'd come around, Tevos,"_ Aria said to her, sounding pleased. _"Now, didn't that feel good? Taking what you need, taking what you want?"_

"I honestly don't know _what_ to feel, but at the moment it's overwhelming relief for simply carrying one less burden."

Tevos could almost hear the smile in Aria's voice when she spoke again, sounding conspicuously dreamy to the point of it obviously being a ruse, _"You're sexy when you're ruthless."_

The councilor, far too disinclined to be the recipient of her teasing, returned her attack in full. "Are you going to start writing my name in the margins of your journal now, Aria?" she pleasantly asked her. Tevos's composure almost shattered in the wake of a laugh when she added, "Encircled by hearts, maybe?"

Although Tevos managed to prevent herself from laughing, Aria did not. _"You bi—"_ Her statement trailed off in a breath of lingering amusement. Tevos knew not whether it was intentional, and Aria had swiftly recovered from the councilor's question and found her clever lilt again. _"I'm so good to you. People are constantly begging for my advice but I'm very parsimonious with it. They have to trade limb and land. Yet here I am, showering you with my wise words and asking nothing in return."_

Tevos rolled her eyes. A small smile was tugging at her lips as she brushed her fingertips against the fine fabric of her chair's arm. It would've delighted her to know that Aria genuinely was good to her, and perhaps she _was_ to a certain extent, but it inevitably tapered off once confronted by the fact that it simply wasn't genuine.

"If only I could believe that without question," Tevos wistfully said, her voice quiet and distracted by her thoughts. "That you are good to me."

_"Have I given you cause to disbelieve it?"_ Aria inquired.

"Well Aria, you are not yourself at times." Tevos reclined back against her chair as if trying to console herself with its comforts, since Aria would have none for her. "You become _conscious_ of someone besides yourself. You are... less disagreeable." She kept to herself the addition of, _You're softer when you're in my bed. Which may or may not be saying much, in perspective. But I notice._ Instead she resorted to a gentle and poignant summary, "You aren't cruel."

Aria responded calmly. _"Councilor, you once made a single condition clear. Do you remember what that was?"_

She did indeed remember, lucidly. Her list of grievances had consisted of very few items. That Aria was too selfish. That Aria was cruel to her. And it was true; Aria had remedied Tevos's misgivings by meeting her lips with such luxurious care, heady and desirous, yet completely uncruel. And she had enticed her, touched her, with the attentiveness of someone beyond her natural manner. It only troubled Tevos when she reminded herself of the likelihood of such behavior being tragically manipulative. The only power Aria held over her, in that sense, was subtle unfulfilled longing.

"But that in itself is my point—that the behavior isn't genuine," Tevos explained, with melancholy delicately lining her words. "I don't take issue with it necessarily, don't misinterpret me. I rather enjoy it. But I have to accept that it is always just an act."

_"Would it upset your little paradigm there to know that I might comprise more than a dichotomy between cruelty and 'uncruelty'?"_

Tevos was rendered silent for a time. She pulled herself away from the back of her chair, sitting forward and asking with interest, "What do you mean?"

_"How much would it surprise you to know that I have never confined myself to being just one thing?"_ Aria answered. _"You see, this is exactly what I've highlighted several times in the past. My actions always need a definite reason, a justification that neatly fits an inflexible perception of me. And if it doesn't, then it's a lie. It's the same thing each time."_ Her voice was absent until she had devised an appropriate conclusion for her assertions. _"Just because I have decided to not be cruel does not make it disingenuous."_

Again she was silent, seized by Aria's claim. Against her rationale she felt her innermost passions quaver, unsure and nervously at first, confounded by the new knowledge. She did not know what to feel. Suspicion? Exultation? Self-reprimand, and thus regress to a state of self-regard that she had only recently defeated? Aria had surprised her so many times in the past, and Tevos couldn't help but surmise that she was far from finished.

Before she had the chance to reply, Tevos heard her omni-tool alert her of another incoming call. She checked the ID, found Nerava's name in the text, and informed Aria, "I'm receiving a call on another line. I should take it now, but I'm certain we'll talk again soon. We still need to review those new leads you're planning to pursue."

_"No time for that, Councilor. I'm ready_ tonight _."_

"Aria, please, hold off for just a day or two?"

_"I'll update you on my progress."_

"Aria—" The line went dead, causing Tevos much contempt before she switched to Nerava's call. "Nerava?"

_"Hello Tevos, it is—what's the time now—16:12? That's not too late for dinner, is it?"_

Still afflicted by the exasperation Aria had instilled within her, Tevos met her cousin's persistence with a reluctant admission. "No, Nerava, I suppose it isn't."

_"Fabulous. Would you like to come with us tonight? If not, you know I'll keep prodding you until you do. We've reserved a nice private corner in a restaurant on the Presidium. I'm exceptionally fascinated by the Thessian dishes served on the Citadel. They're very similar to the cuisine back home, yet there's always something slightly different, something from that wonderful cosmopolitan influence here. Anyway, Estulius cancelled out of the blue but Falteus is accompanying us again. He's such fun company, Tevos, you would—"_

"Excuse me Nerava, but did you say Falteus is with you again?" Tevos hastily interrupted her as a new and brilliant idea ignited within her mind. Never mind Estulius cancelling likely in avoidance of Tevos, and never mind that she had already eaten not an hour previously. While bracing herself for another one of Nerava's attempts to coax her back out onto the dating scene, Tevos had realized that it was _precisely_ what she needed at the moment. A diversion. A character of high quality and well-adjusted to the company of the wealthy and distinguished, to lead Irissa's suspicions astray.

_"Well, yes,"_ Nerava confirmed Falteus's attendance, then instantly launched into another pitch. _"He's of good humor, very upstanding and—"_

"Yes, Nerava," the councilor cut her persuasion short once again. "I think I _will_ join you tonight."

Nerava was initially quieted by the surprise of seeing Tevos willing to jump at the occasion without requiring as much goading as she usually did. Though a bit unusual, her reaction greatly pleased her. _"Well that's fantastic then! Here, I'll send you the location."_

The call ended and the location of the restaurant was disclosed to Tevos. After sending word of her plans for the night to her personal security, Tevos hurriedly relocated herself to her bedroom in search of a suitable outfit for the evening. Although she pressed herself to meet the deadline Nerava had proposed, Tevos paid her appearance a great amount of attention, alternating between two dresses held against her frame as she stood before a mirror, wondering if the first's collar was too high for the impression she desired to make, and wondering if the second's slit that ran down to her heels from mid-thigh was perhaps too bold. She selected the second and obsessed over items of jewelry, debating whether to decorate herself in the intelligence of silver or the resplendence of gold.

As Tevos persevered through the many dilemmas she felt oddly, but remarkably excited. It had been quite a while since she last dressed herself in consideration of a single person instead of the judgmental gaze of many. Not even the fact that she would be rudely using the attention of this turian man, whom she hadn't even met before, for her own personal advantage could deprive the endeavor of maiden-like joy.

While raising her hands to fasten a silver necklace that elegantly highlighted her collarbones, Tevos began to consider intentionally making herself visible to curious onlookers who beheld the spectacle of her standing beside this Falteus Drusarius, if only to produce images that might find their way into Aria's notice. How would she react to those images? Was the depth of their relationship such that Aria might feel any permutation of disapprobation, or even envy? It was a thrilling but sadistic fantasy, she did not deny that. Yet it brought her a small amount of twisted pleasure—while she evaluated how her attire helped accentuate her svelte physique one last time in her mirror—to imagine that Aria could potentially find herself vapidly flicking away the piece of gossip journalism in a distaste which belied something vastly different.

She remembered a small but important detail before she prematurely left. With a small dab of concealing cosmetics, the faint blemish on her neck was removed from sight.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

As Nerava had promised, the restaurant she had chosen for them that night was well-reputed, elegantly furnished, and vaguely familiar to Tevos, who admitted to a likelihood of having visited sometime in the past. Just as well, the establishment was decidedly Thessian, offering a survey of dishes from the central to southwestern continents of the asari homeworld. They were also accommodating to guests of dextro-amino constitutions, which was inevitably a factor which Nerava researched beforehand to be sure neither her own bondmate or Falteus would find themselves inconvenienced.

Nerava was delighted to see Tevos again when she joined them in the room she had reserved; a quiet, secluded area situated against a window pane gazing outward at the Presidium's evening blues. Tevos exchanged a small embrace with her relative before reacquainting herself with her bondmate Vyrina Jonil, whom she had only met once before at their family's reunion. Vyrina was a reserved turian woman with lucid eyes, formal posturing, and a pleasant disposition. And a rather successful architect, as Nerava had told her previously.

The three had only seated themselves for a minute or two before the last member of their party joined them, wearing attire flawlessly tailored to his proportions in such a way that made him appear stately, and owning a countenance whose shallow blemishes told stories of war and honest hardship at a glance. Falteus Drusarius was very much from Palaven in both name and accent, Tevos noted immediately. As she did his impeccable manners and charm when he greeted her respectfully. To his credit, she found her first impression of him favorable, and hoped he was of a similar opinion in regards to her. If she were to be seen in manufactured friendly company with anyone, she had thought as he sat at her side, she was glad it would be with someone as Falteus. And to _Nerava's_ credit, Tevos found her taste in candidates not as abysmal as she initially predicted.

Once comfortable, glasses of water and electronic menus were brought to their table. To keep the atmosphere comfortable and friendly, Nerava resorted to opening conversation with several comments on the Citadel. She praised it generously.

"The Presdium is still _gorgeous_ and the Wards are as vibrant and exciting as ever," she had said at one point. "I haven't visited in over twenty years and if it's changed at all it's only been improvements. I intend to sample as many diversions as possible while I'm here." She distracted herself with the drinks listed in her menu, providing Tevos the opportunity to make conversation with Falteus.

She did so, turning to him and pleasantly inquiring, "If I may ask, Falteus, what has brought you to the Citadel? That is, if I'm not mistaken in assuming you're from Palaven."

"You are correct, Madam Councilor, and I must say you have an excellent ear for turian dialect." He smiled and addressed her question. "I'm retired from military service and now spend the majority of my days writing journalistic accounts of different worlds. I found myself immensely attracted to the sheer diversity and activity of the Citadel, the very heart of our galactic society and thus a unique amalgam of life itself. I plan to spend several months here taking notes and familiarizing myself with the local culture and sights. It was Councilor Kylris Estulius who originally introduced me to Nerava and her wife, on the premise of your cousin and myself having similar careers. Fortunately we pursue different subject matter, however, or our interactions might have been far more competitive."

Nerava's amusement with the comment was perceivable, but she refrained from talking and allowed the two to continue unimpeded as per her plan.

While their intentions were remarkably similar, Tevos and Nerava's plans diverged in motive and ultimate result. But her cooperation was tremendously useful, and Tevos resolved to take complete advantage of it. Yet, even with her being complicit, Tevos still struggled to assemble items to say.

It wasn't like with Aria, she realized at once. She _knew_ she flirted with Aria, and often. But in those instances it was effortless, gratifying, and organic. Perhaps such was true due to their familiarity with one another, whereas deliberate flirting on the basis of passing interest was an art so lost to her that she found herself asking simple questions to better know the man, in hopes of gaining some foothold of knowledge to use in the future.

"So by being a friend of Councilor Estulius, might I be able to assume again that you feel comfortable in the company of councilors?" She further inquired.

He laughed good-naturedly. "Politicians and the like, you are correct again. In the case of Kylris, I've been in contact with him and the rest of our platoon ever since we were young men. We followed one another's lives all throughout the years, watching one another rise to Primarchs, to admirals, and attending their ceremonies and weddings. Therefore I'm very much accustomed to minding both my mouth and dinner manners. I was present for Councilor Estulius's inauguration, as a matter of fact. He's always been a good friend to me, even in his current office. A veracious man. Charismatic with good business sense. Serves his people foremostly and has their genuine interests at heart. Although... he _can_ be quite stubborn and bit idealistic at times."

"I have noticed," Tevos agreed, and they laughed.

"But I must diverge to something else, for just a moment," said Falteus. "I again would like to apologize for disturbing you two nights ago. It was vastly inappropriate and I feel utterly responsible."

"You're not responsible, Falteus," Vyrina spoke. "Nerava had been drinking, that's all."

Her wife playfully slapped her arm before regaining her inherited, aristocratic poise. She defended herself by composedly saying, "I was not _drinking_. I had _a_ _drink_."

"It's quite all right," Tevos put them all at ease. "I didn't take any offense. And I'm glad Nerava invited me along a second time this evening. I've been terribly busy and thus far this has proven to be a very soothing and welcomed distraction." She gave a comely smile and briefly regarded Falteus. "And I'm certainly glad to have made an acquaintance of Falteus. Nerava spoke well of him and I would attest to her honesty."

Falteus's worries were placated, told by the grateful expression he bestowed her.

They ordered their meals. While Vyrina and Falteus consulted the dextro-safe section for close analogues of the available asari dishes, Tevos ordered modestly for her lack of an appetite, and Nerava spent additional time conflicted over which of two colorful cocktails she would order with her seafood. In the end she resolved her dilemma by ordering both.

As they waited, Tevos temporarily abandoned her primary objective of the night to interact with her relative, having recently found conversing with her cousins invaluable after so long a period of silence. "How are your daughters?" she asked her.

Nerava replied with a smile, "Yanisa is well. And Elisia is too independent for a five-year-old, but she's a darling." She turned to her bondmate and affectionately added, "She reminds me of her father."

Tevos noticed Nerava retrieve her hand from visibility and lower it to hold Vyrina's beneath the table. The gesture was happily accepted. At the motion Falteus asked the couple, "May I ask how long you two have been married?"

"Almost eleven years now," answered Vyrina. She appeared delighted by the fact. "Our anniversary is in two months."

Nerava turned the question back onto Falteus. "I hope I'm not prying too much by reciprocally asking this, but while I know you aren't currently married, Falteus, were you ever in the past?"

"Oh, it's quite all right to ask, you needn't worry. I recently dated a woman for almost a decade. I did want to marry her, but she was unfortunately not the committing type, per se. She was a lovely woman. Despite it being over, we still talk as friends on occasion."

Vyrina raised a hand, applying it to the side of her head after apparently receiving a call. She politely apologized for the interruption, checked the identity of the caller, and deemed the contact important enough to speak with at the time. "I'm very sorry," she announced, "it's a client of mine and I need to take this one." She addressed Nerava as she began rising from her seat, "I should only be a few minutes."

Nerava allowed her to leave their table without objection, save for the moment she claimed to bring Vyrina's hand to her lips. The sweetness shared between them endeared Tevos, inspiring her to comment once Vyrina had left the area in search of somewhere quiet to take her call, "You're a beautiful couple, Nerava. Back on Thessia you seemed to brighten the room whenever you were near one another."

"Thank you," Nerava pleasantly received the compliment. "Sometimes it feels the same as it did when we just started dating. Goddess, that was _eighteen_ years ago! Vyrina was so _young_ back then..." She laughed softly as a new thought occurred to her, and continued with amusement, "Actually, when I met her she was a good friend of my daughter Yanisa, from her university."

While Falteus laughed, Tevos delicately cleared her throat and smiled at the interesting anecdote.

There was a mischievous aspect in Nerava's eyes, alluding to a mounting inclination to begin sharing stories during her bondmate's absence. She elaborated, "Vyrina used to be so nervous whenever she spoke to me. I think that was because she had read and admired one of my books. She even asked me to sign her copy. We still have that book shelved at home, as a matter of fact. And _Yanisa_ —such a bright girl—she caught on _immediately_. I still remember when Yanisa discovered that Vyrina was attracted to me. I overheard them speaking one day in the kitchen while I was heading down from the loft, and Yanisa sounded offended. She was exclaiming, _That's my mother!_ And from the stairs I saw her punch Vyrina in the shoulder. I, on the other hand, didn't mind. I thought it was sweet. A year passed, and I had begun considering having another house built in Armali. Winters are so bitter in Kynias, as you know. So when I needed blueprints, I commissioned Vyrina. She came to me with her portfolio, showing me her stunning past projects and laying out sketches for some of her newest ideas. They were all _breathtaking_. I was so impressed by her work! During all the business transactions and paperwork we saw each other often and took one another out to dinner... and we never stopped."

Nerava paused to furtively send a glance over her shoulder to check whether her bondmate was in the process of returning to their table. After finding her nowhere in sight, she lowered her voice for additional security. "I've been thinking about asking Vyrina if she wants to have another daughter. Yanisa looks like she's about to get married herself, and she might not remain living in Kynias. And I think it would be nice for Elisia to have a sister closer to her in age."

"That would be wonderful, Nerava," Tevos said, happy for her in earnest.

Beside her, Falteus could not help but sate another curiosity. "How does your eldest, Yanisa, feel about this? With her friend technically being her stepmother? Pardon me, it slips my mind sometimes when I speak to asari. I believe step _father_ is more appropriate in your case."

"It's amusing, but Yanisa and Vyrina treat each other as they always did, as friends. Yanisa's sister just happens to be Vyrina's daughter."

Vyrina returned shortly after, giving her apologies again before informing Nerava that she would need to do much paperwork the next morning, since her affluent client had decided to officially go through with a commission. Nerava praised her and took her hand in her own again, where it remained throughout their table's extended conversations until their food arrived.

While dining, Tevos's mind kept drifting back to Nerava's loving relationship with her bondmate, and how it bittersweetly reminded her of those tender relationships she once had as a maiden and during the earlier days of her matron years. At present her recollection was hazy, and it somewhat pained her to have forgotten the faces or names of those who had once reassuringly linked themselves to her by the hand, who had sent her flowers unprompted, who had called her _darling,_ and admiringly said that her voice broke their heart. She could only faintly recall what the exquisite delirium of being terribly in love felt like. Dizzying, exhilarating, and sometimes agonizing, but nearly always worthwhile.

And while Aria was thrilling to be around, and provided much in the way of pleasure and conversation, it still disheartened Tevos to acknowledge the existence of countless regions of romance and affection that would never be fulfilled while in her company. She was never under an illusion of the contrary. The reality would merely slip her mind and periodically come rushing back to the surface all at once, and all too suddenly. Just as it had now.

And Aria... Aria was an asari, Aria was a crime lord from the Terminus Systems, and Aria was... _Aria_. There was no larger waste of Tevos's time than to entertain idle daydreams of Aria being suited for the normalcy and banality of a healthy, monogamous relationship. It was also exceedingly unlikely that Aria would be capable of imitating the experience even if she tried, even after summoning the blackest lies from her bones.

Tevos privately ventured to ask herself if she desired such things at heart. She would not find them with Aria if she did. She would be forced to look elsewhere, perhaps after putting an end to whatever she and Aria had started. For Tevos was of the mindset that she was indeed deserving of what she desired in a partner, and would not settle for anyone who didn't offer her a sense of interpersonal fulfillment.

She glanced at Falteus on several occasions, wondering about who he was at personal depth and wondering if he could potentially suffice where Aria would never. And her mind was not upon him solely. The case of Falteus was but a microcosm for many others; various interesting people all around the galaxy, capable of being more to her than Aria would ever care to.

Solemnly, Tevos realized that if in the case she met someone she intensely liked, someone who brought with them a chance for a viable and productive future, she would stop seeing Aria. The prospect almost... saddened her. The other asari had gradually crept into countless compartments of her life—business, political, personal—and it was not frivolous nor hyperbolic to suggest that if she abruptly vacated them one day, it would bereave her. Then Tevos remembered the present task, remembered Falteus, and struck up another conversation with him.

The remainder of the dinner went well. The four of them were pleasant to one another, and Nerava and Vyrina insisted on paying for the meal despite the protests issued from the opposite side of the table. When leaving the restaurant Tevos intentionally lingered within plain view, hoping to be spotted by travelers along the busy avenues while standing in close proximity to Falteus, and she extended that period of time by subtly returning the wave Nerava sent her while she and her bondmate headed for a cab with their arms around each other's waists. Falteus attempted to also bid her a goodnight, but when he declared that he would also be sending for a cab, Tevos offered him a ride to his hotel in her own transportation. As expected, he was disinclined to impose, but after some insistence he acquiesced out of politeness and joined her in the back of the skycar, piloted by one of her personal guards and the passenger seat occupied by a second.

During the trip they chatted about the structures they passed. On one occasion Tevos shared with him an anecdote of a time when she helped pass the bond measure that funded the construction of a concert hall. From what she gleaned from his mood and reactions, Falteus seemed to enjoy her.

After dropping off Falteus and promising to stay in contact, Tevos concluded her night spent tactfully vaunting herself, returned home, and found herself sitting in her armchair again, still wearing her dark evening dress, her heels, her accents of phantasmally silver jewelry—and unusually yearning for hands other than her own to remove them. She pondered a while before retiring to bed.

Falteus seemed a good man. He was well-spoken, unpretentious, and fairly handsome, but there was a quality about him that seemed to emulate intangibility; as if he had passed right through her without meaningful collision, like a ghost, like a neutrino fog. He didn't sear his memory upon the walls of her conscience, not like Aria did. So vividly Tevos recalled those two arches of archaic and oft misinterpreted meaning that bridged her eyes in a perpetual glare. That subtle line dividing tricep and bone, patently visible whenever she leaned over her. That small pale scar on her ribs, just beneath her right breast.

Tevos breathed in slowly and told herself to give it time, to persevere.

She would be seeing Falteus again, whether for him, or for Aria.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

On the second day of involuntary confinement to her district of residence while Zuria contacted each member of the Eingana and Sehtor investigative teams for what were likely fruitless interviews, Liselle left home behind to traverse the few blocks between her and the street which held Afterlife. She knew herself well enough to recognize that a more productive day would be found at a bar compared to one spent in her apartment, where Liselle would waste her hours brooding and pacing restlessly until she drove herself mad. Wisely, she took Daus up on his offer of a drink bought on his credits and joined the queue leading up to the club entrance. As usual she did not have to wait long until the bouncer let her in ahead of the majority after checking her ID, which was well-decorated in priorities granted by her occupation as well as Aria's personal favor.

She searched for Daus near the main bar, sending a message to him after spending several minutes searching for his bare face among countless patrons without success. He replied with his location, prompting Liselle to chart a new course for the tables set against the walls animated by images of flame and shadow. As Liselle drew near she passed by a booth filled with rowdy Omegan youth, obnoxious but either in possession of money or the progeny of those who were. They were crowded around two of their group: a batarian and krogan with more than a dozen violet-hued shots placed between them, whose contest they encouraged with an enthusiastic chant of _'Go! Go! Go!'_ as the pair consumed said shots at alarming speeds.

Daus had the misfortune of having situated himself in the table adjacent from theirs, but as Liselle dodged a glass flung by the neighbors she noticed that all traces of perturbation were strangely absent from his features. He had but one drink set on the table in front of him; bluish, translucent, and half-emptied. When he saw her his placid expression lit up with a friendly smile, and he urged her to take the chair across from him. She did so after greeting him.

"Hey Liselle," he said to her. "Glad you could make it. So like I promised, I'm going to buy you a drink for saving my ass yesterday. What'll it be?"

"To be honest, I'm in the mood for anything," she told him. Her claim was perfectly true—if it contained alcohol, it was desired purely for an ability to temporarily soothe the anxiety felt at being kept from her urgent personal affairs. "What would you recommend?"

"Well I'm not savvy with anything levo. But Bothan's always got specials. I'll wave him down." He shifted in his chair, reorienting himself in the direction of the bar where the batarian was mixing a drink for a customer. Daus lifted a hand and casually gestured at Bothan once he had finished, and his communication was answered with a single lifted finger to signal that he would be with them shortly. In the meantime, Daus turned back to Liselle to share with her, "I've known Bothan for a while. He's the friend I mentioned—the guy who's helping me out until Aria has a chance to look into Vathesa's stragglers. He makes a mean drink, I'll give him that."

"He's the one who... found Olat Dar'nerah, right?"

"Sure is. Poor guy. I'm sure that fucked him up a bit. He told me about it... but I didn't know he told anyone else besides Aria. Did Aria let you know about it?"

Liselle shook her head. "It came up when I was talking to one of the dancers here. I'm, uh, friends with her."

"It was Anthya, wasn't it?" Daus smartly guessed. "Yeah, I'm not too surprised he told her. He usually keeps to himself but he tells me Anthya's good for a chat. He also told me that he thinks Anthya's got the hots for him." He scoffed with an amused smile. "Yeah, right."

Curious, Liselle asked him, "Why's that weird?"

"Well... Anthya... she's got Ar—I mean she generally gets attention from elsewhere—" He cut his elaboration short when Bothan was spotted heading over to their table, carrying a glass and towel in an effort to multitask.

"What's up, Tel?" the batarian nonchalantly asked Daus, truncating his first name in such a way that provided evidence for the existence of a friendship between the two. "You want another round?"

"Actually, I promised my friend here that'd I buy her a drink," he said. "Maybe one of your off-menu cocktails? I'll pay premium if you want."

"Regular price is fine," said Bothan. He turned his eyes onto Liselle to ascertain the recipient of his next creation and immediately found her face familiar. "Hey—haven't I seen you around before?"

Liselle hesitated but truthfully responded, more or less. "Yeah. I'm Anthya's... friend."

"Oh, right." The memory struck him. "You're the counterfeit wine girl. So how'd that go?"

"Err—great."

"Counterfeit wine?" Daus echoed Bothan's words to Liselle in both confusion and fascination. "What's that all about?"

"It was nothing," Liselle said. "I just needed to pay off a debt but I couldn't afford the real thing. Anthya brought me to Bothan and he set me up." She spoke to Bothan again, "I hope she paid you enough. If she didn't I can come up with the rest—"

"No need, it's all settled," he assured her. "So how about that cocktail?"

Using Liselle's preference for Thessian honey mead, Bothan suggested a libation whose ingredients revolved around the established base. While Liselle found some of them peculiar and unexpected, she placed her trust in his reputation and decided to take the risk. After Bothan jotted down the special order and left, Liselle turned to Daus again and returned to their previous topic of discussion.

"So what else is there to Bothan? How long have you known him?"

"A few years, maybe five? He's from the Mazat District. You know, Little Khar'shan. He used to be a doctor of some kind. But if I remember right he came to Omega because on Khar'shan his family was trying to get him to marry well. He wasn't interested. Still isn't. At least, not interested in a traditional sense." Daus lifted his glass of blue spirits and finished what remained.

Liselle recalled a point of conjecture about Bothan which Anthya had shared with her earlier that week, and tentatively asked Daus in an attempt to confirm it, "Is Bothan uninterested in the females of his species?"

"Yeah."

"...Are you two...?"

Daus laughed, but didn't seem to take offense. "Bothan? Nah. Don't get me wrong, I'm not too picky but he's just a friend. A brother."

The nightclub's music continued to reverberate in the air around them, the contagious throb manifesting in some nearby patrons who spoke in a huddle, clutching their drinks while nodding or swaying to the tempo. Liselle received her unique drink and emerged from her first sample of it with nothing but praise for the batarian bartender, who merely smirked with pride, took Daus's payment, and urged her to enjoy. For a time Liselle and Daus chatted on lighter subjects, suggesting to one another programs to stream on the extranet and revealing the lesser-known sources of entertainment on Omega, ranging from obscure concerts where experimental vanguards of music performed, to biotic sports tournaments. They were only interrupted when Daus spotted a familiar silhouette, robed in black and treating the environment with the tranquility one would their own home. She sauntered through the crowds with uncontested confidence until her eyes rested upon her table.

Liselle followed Daus's line of sight, turning around in her chair while bracing a hand against its back. When she saw Anthya, a smile found a home on her lips.

"Liselle," Anytha cheerfully greeted her, happy to see that the maiden had completed her strange transaction without incident. "It's good to see you again."

"You too," she said, then offered her a seat. "I can't thank you enough for how much you helped me out the other day."

The dancer waved off her gratitude while settling down into the offered chair. "It was no problem at all. I was happy to help." She folded her arms onto the table and pushed her long sleeves up from her wrists, to mid-forearm for comfort.

"So Anthya," Daus secured her attention with an antagonistic grin, "tell me why you're always wandering around Afterlife whenever I see you. Don't you have a job? Got a shift coming up someday soon?"

She addressed his mocking with a sly, pretty smile. "Soon," Anthya replied, then added in a whisper while looking at Liselle, "When I want to."

Liselle laughed, and Daus went on to say, "I _know_ Aria lets you have the run of the place."

"I haven't the slightest idea of what you're talking about," she dreamily said, regarding him coyly before turning away to preserve her secrets.

The turian rolled his eyes as Anthya leaned over to Liselle again and gave her some advice without any intention to make her words inaccessible to Daus. "Don't you entertain this man. He's an ass at heart. But you, Liselle—you come by sometime and talk to me, okay?" She draped an arm around her shoulders to possessively rope her off from Daus. And Liselle, being so very unused to physical communication save for memories of her mother, Iaera, and Zuria, initially went rigid in surprise. But Anthya posed no visible danger; she was warm, generous, and the way she smiled at Liselle with all her charms on display impelled the girl to relax and agree.

Yet, she felt a natural instinct within her specifically tuned to danger—possibly paranoia she had inherited from Aria—churn with doubt. Of course Anthya had been selfless enough to help her, but how did she feel about what came after, when she instructed Liselle to perform the routine that had admitted her into Aria's penthouse room? Anthya recognized her importance but did not dare invade the enigma any further, overcome by a great fear of delving into knowledge that was not meant for her. Knowledge that might have led to her own doom. So why tempt fate by edging closer to Liselle now? It would've made more sense for to have altered course the moment she recognized Liselle as Daus's companion.

Perhaps she was only doing her job. Investigating Liselle further to be absolutely certain that she was no threat to Aria, and doing so by effortlessly slipping into her façade of a harmless and inviting entertainer solely employed for the viewing pleasure of others. Just _waiting_ to capture the malevolent unwary.

Liselle was suspicious of Anthya, but she also rebelled against the notion of becoming like Aria in that respect. Always eyeing those closest to her with the same vigilance as she gave her enemies; always distancing herself to the point where no one could truly corroborate her being a person and not a disembodied force or icon. And how could Anthya ever harm her? If she happened to be seeking the truth, and if she ever obtained it, she would only unveil the individual who Aria protected with her life. Liselle found solace in this.

Sometime during the evening, Aria's confinement of team Eingana officially ended with a message.

.

TO: LISELLE KASANTIS  
FROM: ARIA T'LOAK  
SUBJECT: Orders

I'm having all customers to Kiava Vathesa's vahnis toxin thoroughly evaluated. Eingana has been assigned Sahra Parem Igrahal, a wealthy batarian shareholder of countless companies based in the Mazat District. She's been a contact and outspoken proponent of mine for three decades and I find it unlikely, but very much possible, for her to be affiliated with our enemy. Declare your allegiance to me when you speak with her. She will comply with your investigation and give you the information you need, and if she refuses in any circumstance I want you to inform me and prepare for an assault. She will know this.

Sahra Igrahal _will_ be addressed as I now exemplify. She _will_ be respected, and if I find out she has been needlessly offended I will not be pleased with your unit. The Kephana festival begins tomorrow and she'll be immersed in its organization. Aid her if necessary, but do not hinder the procession of the event without justification. The Mazat District is highly loyal to me and they annually funnel millions of credits into my syndicate. A professional image, reinforced by militaristic might, is still paramount.

.

Wryly, Liselle mused to herself, _Should think about asking Bothan for a tour._


	21. Little Khar'shan

 Nothing about the Mazat District that Nilena could've told Liselle in the dancers' lounge in Afterlife several days earlier would have prepared her for the sheer ebullience and passion which characterized the Kephana festival.

Liselle perceived the first diluted signs of what would follow during their ride into Little Khar'shan, seated with the other two members of Eingana. The vast majority of the closely-packed passengers on the public shuttle shared a similar profile; shamelessly proud batarians, many dressed in traditional garbs bearing intricate or mosaic-like patterning, and some shirtless while sporting holy symbols marked across their chests in bold red paint, with the most enthused individuals wreathed in gaudy, fake golden jewelry and energetically singing in a language so ancient that Liselle's translator failed to make sense of half the lyrics. It was not uncommon for other parties of passengers in the same shuttle compartment to join in on another group's merriment.

Beside her, Rasma seemed purely annoyed by the noise and had withdrawn against the lightly-rattling window as she sifted through files on her omni-tool. And on Liselle's other side, she found Malak smiling so faintly she might have imagined it, as he gazed out at fellow members of his species enjoying the holiest day of the year—the fourth day of the fourth month on the batarian calendar. It was the first time she had ever seen Malak so far outside his usual sour mood. He might've even parted his lips to silently mouth some of the words being sung around them, if her senses served her correctly.

As for Liselle herself, she was absolutely fascinated. Before that day she had never been so thoroughly exposed to raw culture, from any race. Omega at best emulsified all inbound culture to the point where they were barely detectable past the massive silhouettes of its syndicates, standing proudly at the forefront of its galactic reputation and obscuring all else in the towering shadows they cast. Omega was either about surviving or becoming rich, and both of those goals were most often achieved through violence, weapons, and drugs. Little else visibly mattered, and Liselle had never asked what it meant to be asari, or what the depths of their culture contained. All she possessed of her heritage was their anatomy and their language, and even the language Liselle personally used was muddled by foreign batarian influence.

To witness a people's identity vigorously reemerging from dormancy in its carriers, who were often the descendants of several generations having lived and died on Omega, was stunning. Their pride had preserved it. Their nationalism, however dangerous it was at times, saw to the endurance of their culture in defiance of distance and time spent away from Khar'shan.

When the Eingana unit arrived in the Mazat District they were virtually swept up by the bustling masses and drowned in the city's lights and celebration. Lanterns framed in metal were strung across streets, and those passing beneath them were loud and animated in the company of their family and friends. On one occasion Liselle nearly jumped in startled fright as the loud popping of homemade pyrotechnics sounded. It was the response to gunshots that never occurred, and she was relieved to see a bright flash of red and white light shoot across the street from one apartment's balcony to the other. The assaulted neighbors laughed and shrieked before retaliating with their own hail of brighter and louder orange. Shortly after, the descent into a street lined with innumerable sources of freshly-grilled, seasoned and marinated meats made Liselle wish she had eaten a larger meal before leaving home.

"All right," Rasma said to them as they passed through the dissipating clouds of food-scented steam and smoke, "Aria's directions put us just a few more blocks away from Igrahal's—"

" _Sahra_ Igrahal's," Malak sharply corrected her. "Didn't you read Aria's orders? _Sahra!_ "

The turian defensively replied in question, "Do I look like I know what that means?"

"It's an honorific," Liselle automatically supplied after averting her gaze from the colorful stalls.

Malak nodded to her once, then returned to Rasma. "See, even _Liselle_ knows what it is. _Sahra_ is a term reserved for the female head of a batarian clan or house. _Sah_ is the male conjugate. The titles are most often given to the elders, or the wealthiest member of one's extended family. It is a term of utmost respect and to decline its usage when appropriate is _insolent_. If Aria wants us to respect our contact I'd definitely start by calling her Sahra, no questions asked."

Rasma mentally processed the word for a while. She mused aloud, "Sahra... barik?"

The batarian of their party nodded, then grimly clarified, "Sahra Barika. 'Our lady of doom'."

They continued on. Amid the zealous young adult batarians shouting excitedly while racing down the streets and waving flags bearing the emblem of the Hegemony, and those who had interpreted the holiday as a time of piety given their dark humble garbs and bushels of incense carried in arm, the overall flow of bodies overwhelmingly shared their direction of travel—headed toward a large recreational hall which hosted various entertainment events year-round.

Rasma caught the sight of a half-empty canister of drink being lobbed in her direction and ducked as it sailed over her head. Her turian height had made her a prominent target for a group of young batarian men lounging on a balcony above the illuminated shelves of a store, who fearlessly taunted her with xenophobic slurs as she passed by. Enraged by the occurrence, she demanded of Malak, "What the hell is Kephana about, anyway? Besides an excuse to get drunk and harass outsiders?"

He was happy to answer her. "Kephana is a religious celebration that lasts four days. My people are best described as henotheistic—we kneel to one supreme god, but we do so by honoring partial manifestations and demigods. Each man may worship differently, depending on what four idols, or emissaries to The One, impact the health of his life to the greatest degree. The One rewards our propitiation by acting through these emissaries, who bless the devout. The emissaries can be minor gods, but they can also be people. The living are included when they've obviously been favored by The One, and now hold immense influence or power over the outcome of one's life. On Erszbat, my community honored the Sovereign of the Hegemony; Capnarah, god of agriculture; Vathanor, god of storms, as per tradition despite our crops being grown in technology-controlled environments; and Gatlakah, god of seasons. The batarian pantheon is vast."

"So what do the batarians of Omega worship?" Rasma inquired, looking about their surroundings warily for more people who objected to her or Liselle's presence.

Her question was temporarily put on hold when they encountered a small group of armored batarians redirecting the street's traffic through a detour. To those denizens who complained they merely responded by telling them a parade was being organized, and to step away if they weren't interested in shattering the sanctity of the holy day with violence. Rasma approached them, spoke with them, and by invoking Aria's authority they were permitted to pass and travel down the main avenue, which was bordered by early spectators anticipating the event to take place there.

"On Omega," Malak finally addressed her question, "and specifically in Little Khar'shan, my people honor what most determines their prosperity. Anoragot, god of death. Bahnavran, god of war. Drendagol, god of the criminal underworld. And Aria T'Loak."

"Aria?" Rasma repeated, not noticing Liselle's eyes widening in equal surprise. "Really?"

"Khar'shan's sovereign has no power here," Malak explained simply. "This is not his realm. He cannot provide here. But Aria can. You see—a leader, a warlord, the most powerful person in the realm, was elevated to that summit on the blessings and favor of The One. It has always been tradition to place the most powerful individual of one's nation or territory alongside the minor gods, even if they are not batarian. They are seen as conduits to the divine."

When Malak finished elaborating Liselle went on to think, _Worshiping the living was probably an instrument to keep mass order and loyalty on Khar'shan. No wonder Mother doesn't want us offending this district..._

"Then why are you so reluctant to follow orders, Lekahn?" Rasma asked him. There was a trace of antagonism in her voice. "If Aria's been touched by your supreme deity, doesn't defiance make you a heretic?"

"If you haven't noticed, we aren't in the Hegemony right now," he retorted. "Out here, not everyone subscribes to the same sect of belief. I don't believe any living person can rightfully occupy a throne on the same tier as a god. I respect Aria. I think she's a damn good leader—I do—but _I don't bow_. My moron of a brother was right about something, I'll admit. Those in power will do _anything_ to stay in power, and one way to do it is pretending to be a god. And look at me now. After spending my youth on Erszbat being followed around by the secret police when Vikra left, a couple years later I _am_ working for a secret police."

Liselle could see and understand his bitterness, but at times such as these she wondered if he bothered to listen to himself. There was always a chance that Rasma might read into his grievances a little too deeply and secretly report them to Aria. It was extremely doubtful that Malak would turn traitor. He had absolutely nothing to gain and _everything_ to lose. He had only been venting his frustrations with the irony of his situation. Although, Liselle was still reluctant to equate their work to that of Khar'shan's stringent thought-policing and censorship laws. Aria was _nothing_ like them. Not once had Aria ever sent her mercenaries after an individual for simply having a different opinion than her. Aria only acted drastically in times such as these, with her lieutenants being slaughtered and longevity of her syndicate threatened. It simply wasn't comparable.

They hugged the many sections of metal railings dividing the street from the spectators. Unlike in the crowded streets neither Rasma nor Liselle were targeted with racial slurs or thrown items, perhaps from being visibly in the company of a batarian while armed and armored. At the very end of the long bridge suspended over space to connect two groups of stalactitic structures was a large section of spire whose facade had been modified in a batarian architectural style—harsh geometry broken by winding curvatures, and painted in a subdued, earthy palette. At the entrance they were accosted by yet another guard. Rasma identified herself and her associates, at which time the guard confirmed that the others diverting traffic had given him forewarning of their arrival. He allowed them to pass into the building, promising to take them to Sahra Igrahal, but not without a light escort.

The main entrance was unusually lavish for a recreational center, lit up in golden-yellow hues pouring down from high mounted sconces. People were passing through constantly; many burdened with equipment of both large and small proportions, and several in eerie costumes with complicated designs painted onto their limbs and faces. One wore a carefully-crafted mask without eyes; another strode by in a replica of ancient gilded armor while carrying a decorated spear. Liselle suspected they were to walk in the parade.

The entrance opened into an even larger atrium, presently deprived of its countless rows of seating that faced a grand stage in favor of room for the assemblage of ceremonial throne props and hand-painted beasts native to Khar'shan, to be rolled along on traditional wheels instead of being deposited on a platform fitted with small thrusters. Over the chatter of people at work rose an authoritative voice, "Tradition, tradition, _tradition_! Appease the old and captivate the young. Take those LEDs off that frame, boy! Are you _mad?_ "

Overseeing much of the ongoing activities, and surrounded by a group of assistants, was a batarian woman in expensive silk attire, dyed in violets and trimmed in gold, with fine rings upon her fingers and jewels impressively glittering around her neck. There was a well-maintained gun at her hip; a minor testament to her intimidating presence, if the sharpness of her glare and the severity of the creases in her aging face did not suffice on their own. At the moment, she was too involved in her coordinating to acknowledge their approach.

"What do you _mean_ she's ill?" she demanded of one of her assistants, who had just delivered some unfortunate news. "She told me _yesterday_ that she'd be here!"

"Sahra, she's been bedridden since morning. We're going to have to find another solution."

Malak turned to the rest of team Eingana as they drew closer, saying quietly to them, "Let me do the talking. Visiom will just piss her off."

While Liselle agreed without qualm, Rasma leered maliciously before deferring to him solely for being more familiar with batarian customs.

"Go make some calls!" Sahra Igrahal ordered the one speaking to her. "Ask around and try to find someone who's available. And do hurry, preferably sometime _before_ Sahrabarik goes supernova?"

The assistant obsequiously scurried off, leaving her lady fuming at the inconvenience plaguing her. With angry hands fitted on her hips, she at last registered the sight of team Eingana, whose racial makeup greatly contrasted against the congregation of her people. "Who are you? Who allowed you in here?"

"Sahra, we are Aria's agents," Malak respectfully said, shedding his typically hostile manner of speaking for a time. He tilted and bowed his head before standing at attention again. "We are here on her orders to evaluate your recent financial and business-oriented activities. She will excuse you from further disturbances once everything checks out nicely."

Her glower softened and she was briefly silenced, thinking. "Well," she began, "Aria's agents are always welcome in my house. Your timing is bad, but I can respect Aria's evident urgency." Sahra Igrahal suddenly diverted her attention to bark more orders at those hastily using portable fans to dry a fresh coat of golden paint applied to a float. She returned to Malak and his allies. "I'd be more than happy to open my files and receipts to you, but right now I am _terribly_ busy. I always organize the first day parade and I've been encountering mishap after mishap all day long. If you are willing to wait until I've sorted this circus out I shall be very accommodating to your investigation."

Drawing from Aria's advice, Malak went on to politely ask her, "Is there anything we might be able to help with, Sahra?"

She wryly twisted her mouth. "The asari actress who was supposed to fly into Mazat to play Aria has fallen ill. I don't suppose Aria herself would be willing to make an appearance?" The listlessness of her voice alluded to her proposal dismally being a joke. "She hasn't done so in a hundred years. Far before my time."

Liselle was struck by a curious thought. Her awareness of asari lifespans as compared to most other races was amplified; to batarians, even one as long-lived as Sahra Igrahal, Aria had always been the most powerful figure on Omega, and likely would be well past the day they died. To them, Aria was eternal.

Another of Sahra Igrahal's assistants—one of two who still remained at her side, anticipating her to give them new tasks—abruptly drew attention to Liselle and severed her from her thoughts. "Well, they _do_ have an asari with them right there! Come here, girl!" He emphatically gestured to her, urging her near.

She naturally hesitated, but would not see herself being recalcitrant in the presence of a highly influential and wealthy proponent of her mother. Liselle took a few steps forward and was immediately herded in by the assistant, who turned her to face his superior. "Do you think she could fit the role?"

The other assistant denounced his suggestion. "You only singled her out because she's the only asari around. She looks _nothing_ like Aria. She's not even the right color!"

"Yes she is! She's _perfectly_ violet."

"Do you need your eyes checked? She's blue!"

Sahra Igrahal demanded they both shut up before analyzing Liselle herself. She folded her arms in contemplation, muttering aloud, "A little on the short side. And a little too thin. Might not be too noticeable..." She reached out and held Liselle's jaw, directing her to turn and tilt her head at varying angles while simultaneously scrutinizing the shape of her face and the true hue of her complexion. Liselle could feel her nails scratching against her throat as she was manipulated.

"Coloration isn't... _vital_ ," she thoughtfully said. "Most people wouldn't notice in the lighting outside, and if my artist finds her a few shades off, it can be corrected with a bit of cosmetics... But she _does_ have the eyes, and a bit of the brow. Those are important. Jawline is slightly different, however." She released her hold on Liselle to withdraw into a private deliberation with herself. "I don't want to use her," she confessed. "But she'll probably be the best replacement we'll get at this short of notice. We really only have two more hours. I'll tell you what, asari—what is your name?"

"Liselle."

"Liselle. I'm going to propose a deal to you. If you replace my useless actress in the parade, tomorrow I will _personally_ give you tours of any of my buildings in addition to my files. My attendance will give you an easier time accessing restricted areas, and I will be available to answer all your questions as well as readily provide information upon your request."

On instinct, the maiden turned back to implicitly seek her team's input. At heart, she was extremely hesitant about masquerading as her own mother, even if no one else knew who she was. There was a very alarming aspect to the idea. To make her genetics so blatantly obvious in front of hundreds made her legs feel weak and her stomach uneasy, as one of the main activities perpetuated throughout her life was the meticulous elimination of all connections between her and Aria, and to suddenly turn on her heel and dash into the opposite direction of years of planning and lying was almost insane on her part.

"Well," Malak spoke up. "What do you want to do, Liselle? I think it's worth it. Hell, as a kid I used to dream about playing the part of Vathanor in my city's parades."

Liselle found his willingness to give her choice in the matter to be odd. She turned her eyes onto Rasma.

The turian shrugged and shook her head. "You should do it. Being carried along for a few kilometers between rows of people praising your image is hardly what I'd call an inconvenience. And we get a lot out of it in compensation."

Liselle regarded Sahra Igrahal once more, looking into her four dark eyes for a moment before nodding and declaring, "I'll do it. But... I'm not familiar with exactly what it is I have to do."

"It's a very straightforward performance," Sahra Igrahal informed her. "Very minimal effort is required on your part. Here, my assistant will show you to my makeup artist and I'll send for the costume shortly. As for your associates, I can offer them access to a small banquet and excellent views of the parade if they so desire."

With a twinge of envy felt at the missed opportunity of a banquet, Liselle was led away from the main theatre hall and into the adjoining side rooms.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

In the nocturnal tranquility of her apartment, Tevos lounged on one of her front room sofas, keeping herself upright from the hip while her legs lay draped comfortably across the seats. She was working in the glowing interface of a datapad, determined to start carefully documenting the data and conversations she shared with Aria in case she ever needed to review the outcomes of their meetings in detail. Many abbreviations and coded words were used in the writing of these notes, and no key would ever exist; Tevos merely relied upon association in many cases, selecting terms that immediately evoked another related word whenever she read them. By the time she would finish, Tevos suspected that not even Aria would be able to decode them without her aid.

Her project began immediately following Aria's reports of all incidents occurring over the last few days. She was now aware of everything—Vathesa and Eshedra's deaths, their possession of the plant which produced the toxin used in the attempt to assassinate Aria, and the recovered identities of its purchasers. To Aria's disdain, she was once again sending her infiltration units out to investigate each of these purchasers in what was starting to feel like an interminable, spiraling chase that led her deeper and deeper into Omega's underworld with little result and even less satisfaction. At the moment, they could only hope one of the units would acquire information that might aid Aria in focusing her efforts instead of spreading them thinly across her domain.

Occasionally, Tevos wondered if the time they consumed at each of these meetings when discussing the situation at length could have been substantially reduced if they utilized a particular ability inherent to their species. But it would have greatly distressed her to ask. The very idea of melding with Aria, even for information purposes, flustered her. The one time they had done so was purely inspired by physical reasons, and they hadn't even melded completely, but shallowly while exchanging nothing more than a quick heated glimpse into one another. Even so, the faint memory of it affected her greatly. She could still remember the intensity of Aria's presence, engulfing her in fires of raw power and passion. It was like staring directly into a sun, whose light was such that it obscured every finer detail of her conscience in all-consuming whiteness. Tevos doubted her ability to concentrate on exchanging information while subjected to those conditions.

Tevos lifted her gaze from her datapad to glance over at the one occupying her thoughts. Aria sat nearby, reclined on a loveseat while balancing a bowl of cubed fruit on her chest, which Tevos had earlier pushed into her arms after she bitterly complained about not having the chance to eat anything in hours. She now ate from it at a leisurely pace, immersed in the messages clouding her omni-tool. During her temporary distraction, Tevos's eyes drifted along her form—the same creamy shirt she had borrowed (or stole) the last time she was a guest in her home, to the dark pants clinging to her long legs, to her heeled boots carelessly resting on Tevos's low glass table. She found _that_ quality highly unfavorable.

"Aria," Tevos said to her, drawing her half-attention. "I'd like you to remove your feet from my table."

Aria regarded her with a piece of fruit pinched between her fingers, its journey to her mouth interrupted. She did not immediately move. Her maintained stillness caused Tevos to raise a brow, urging her to obey the rules of her home. Their exchanged gaze was never broken, even when Aria eventually removed her feet from the table, one after the other, with her thick heels thudding lightly against the floor as they made contact. It was a bit of defiance on her part, Tevos knew. It was perhaps foolish to think there would ever be a circumstance where Aria readily responded to orders such as these, no matter how their relationship evolved. The trait was well-embedded in her nature.

"And _why..._ " Tevos began again, looking down at the boots placed upon her white carpeting and vaguely desiring revenge for its maltreatment, "are your heels so tall? Do you have a height insecurity?"

Her lips parted almost imperceptibly as she smiled at the daring insult. "Well aren't you just looking for trouble?" she tauntingly said, riled by a challenge.

Tevos coyly returned the smile before reassigning her attention to her notes.

"Are you almost finished?" Aria asked her while removing her bowl from her chest and setting it upon the table her boots had previously commandeered. "Come here."

It was Tevos's turn to be defiant. "No, I'm not finished," she flippantly replied, never meeting Aria's eyes. "You'll just have to wait."

She would never see what expression her words instilled upon Aria's face. Whether she had frowned, whether her smile had remained. Knowing that Aria wanted to have her hands upon her, however, still sent a delightful feeling of warmth radiating throughout her body. Waiting was an exercise that Tevos personally found pleasurable against a background of self-denial. Instant gratification was so very fleeting, and so very unmemorable. Waiting, however, provided abundant time to conceive her plans and endear herself to them.

"Tell me about that turian you were with last night."

Another ray of satisfaction threatened to dissolve Tevos's determination to not meet her gaze. So Aria _had_ seen some tabloid press about it—but more importantly, she had sought it out. Tevos decided to torment Aria with the truth. "Falteus Drusarius," she said simply. "He was very nice. Dignified, proper, and well-spoken. He's a retired military officer from Palaven."

"So he's your diversion," Aria presumed. "Does he seem to like you?"

"Yes, we enjoyed each other's companionship and exchanged contact information. I'm planning on inviting him out again—probably without any additional company."

Aria asked nothing more on the topic. For a time Tevos was free to continue organizing her notes, but her mind wandered about, to Aria, to Falteus, and even to Nerava and her bondmate. While Falteus's accent had been easy to place, Vyrina's posed as more of a challenge. Tevos had guessed the colony of Taetrus, but she remained uncertain. Wanting to sate her curiosity, Tevos accessed her omni-tool to open the program for her translator, consulting its history of detected languages and dialects. She selected records of the previous evening and found herself correct, as her translator had successfully classified certain terms used by Vyrina as linguistic variations of turian common words, heard primarily on Taetrus. When Tevos returned to the history's most recent page, something caught her eye. Within the last few hours a batarian language had been detected and translated, and for a moment she believed she had misread, or that her translator had made an error, but neither was true. Finally she lifted her eyes to Aria and found her still watching her quietly.

Tevos rose from the sofa, leaving her datapad behind as she began to approach Aria. When she sat down beside her, she folded her slender legs over her lap and gently braced a forearm against the back of the seat to maintain her balance. Aria's hand migrated forward and slipped into the front of her robe. Her touch ran along her waist and pressed against the small of her back, pulling her in closer, possessively.

Before she could touch her any further, Tevos asked her as she lightly ran her fingertips against the length of Aria's collarbone left exposed by the shirt she wore, "Why didn't you ever tell me that you spoke batarian?"

Her question stilled Aria's impatient hands, but she was able to reply without a hitch, "I've lived on Omega for over two hundred years. I'd have been stupid to not pick it up after a few decades or so. And what about you, Councilor? I'm sure you speak a few languages you've never bothered to tell me about."

She faintly smiled. "I am the polyglot you'd expect me to be. I speak the language of my home region Kynias, asari common, and a bit of turian common that's somewhat degraded over the years. But I learned these as a child—during the time when the majority of our people learn the languages they will speak for the rest of their lives, since the introduction of a translator usually occurs around school age. You never would have needed to learn batarian."

Aria exhaled in irritation as the delicate haze of desire rapidly began to evaporate from her eyes. Even the hand she held against Tevos's back went lax. "It doesn't matter," she flatly said.

"Are you fluent?" Tevos inquired.

"Of course I am," replied Aria, sounding protective of her competency despite her reluctance to elaborate on the origins of her acclaimed fluency.

Although Tevos decided not to press her on the issue, she had a fair idea of what the truth would be. And Aria knew that she knew; it was why she so abruptly appeared perturbed and distant, and why the skin against her fingertips was so easily forgotten. Perhaps it was too often that Tevos revealed ownership of knowledge, of those well-buried, guarded facts about her tendencies and past. Aria adored the orb of mystery and intrigue she carried around with her. It made both her friends and enemies vulnerable to her suggestions, pliable like clay, when they did not know what to expect from Omega's Queen in the arenas of negotiation and battle. Without it, what would she then be? A person with affiliations, preferences, and foibles, all exposed for exploitation. And Aria did not have the luxury of being more a person than a figure, and to see herself becoming the former to anyone, even to Tevos, greatly disturbed her.

Tevos leaned in and brought her lips to Aria's, attempting to remind her of her trustworthiness. It was a good sign that Aria did not turn or hold herself away. When she withdrew from the lingering kiss Tevos lifted her hand to Aria's cheek and studied her features, careful to avoid directly meeting her glacial stare.

She wondered what Aria was thinking. She never really knew, and dearly wanted to at times. Again the notion of melding with Aria flooded Tevos's mind, with the sheer implied intimacy of the act making her uncomfortably warm. She thought of black arousal steadily pooling into Aria's eyes, like ink dripping into milk. She thought of those melds where experienced partners no longer needed the aid of touch beyond what linked their consciences together, and could revel in sheer bliss of being seamlessly unified to the point of physical gratification. It was difficult to admit that the reverie had been disarranging her neat lines of reason all evening. When Tevos noticed that she had begun slipping her fingers into the collar of Aria's shirt, mindlessly caressing the very top of her chest, she slowed her ministrations before retreating her hand entirely. She spoke to Aria again while brushing her thumb against her cheekbone, "You always have a bit of darkness beneath your eyes. Do you sleep often enough?" Her concern was meant to further soften Aria's wariness.

"I sleep when it's convenient," she said, her voice veiled by neutrality. "Not every night."

"Well, you know you're welcome to sleep here if you need to."

Her offer managed to place a smile on Aria's lips as she grasped its duality. "Well," said Aria, "that would certainly be convenient."

Tevos felt the hand on her back begin to move again, exploring her flesh and the shallow dips and protrusions outlining bone. She interpreted it as permission to bring their lips back together, and she kissed Aria softly, but purposefully. A hand was raised to cradle her jaw while initiating contact before it lowered to her neck and shoulder, rubbing her there tenderly through the thin material of her clothes.

When their lips parted and hovered just centimeters away from another kiss, Tevos quietly asked her, "What would you like to do for the rest of the night?"

Aria made Tevos sharply inhale when she pushed her other hand through the front of her robe, hiked up her nightshirt, and settled it on her chest. "Oh, I can think of a few things," she slyly replied. "Would you like to hear them?"

"Only if you're half the poet you were the other night," Tevos said, her sarcasm evident.

The hand against her back securely wrapped around her waist, and with a brief shifting of position Aria pulled Tevos onto her lap, guiding her legs to rest on either side of her hips in a straddle. She leaned in, speaking like velvet against her crest, "I know my ideas make you wet, Councilor." The hand cupping her breast gave a gentle squeeze, and her other had secured itself on her pelvis, beginning to influence Tevos's hips to slowly and repeatedly roll forward onto her own.

Aria was subjected to nails clutching at her shoulders.

"You were completely ready for me," she continued. "I hardly even needed to touch you." Her grip on Tevos's hip tightened when she hooked one of her legs around her waist while reciprocating the adjustment on her other side. The increased the area of contact between them, even through their clothes, brought an uneasy exhale to Aria's lips as she contained her own burning impatience. "You must have been thinking about them, all those ideas... You must have been thinking about _me._ "

Tevos ran her nails upward from Aria's shoulders, resting one hand against her neck to hold her there as she pressed her lips to the opposite side. When she trailed her attention down the column of her throat, she felt the muscles in Aria's thigh minutely quiver against the top of her own, followed by the sensation of her knee brushing along her side, as if she were starting to lightly squirm a bit in pleasure. The response made her ego swell.

A few more minutes passed and any words exchanged between them had diminished into subdued sighs and groans. Wandering hands that always seemed to end up with frustrated fistfuls of clothing led them to a conclusion; if they wanted to continue, Aria would have to lift Tevos from her lap, temporarily depriving them both of the pressure that was originally intended to soothe and sate some of their arousal, but had only succeeded at inflaming it. After savoring a few more firm presses from her hips, Tevos disconnected herself from a heady kiss shared with Aria, placed her hands on her shoulders for support, and retrieved both legs from their entanglement so that she could stand. Without needing to be persuaded, Aria followed Tevos down the hall and somehow kept herself from pulling her down with her in the middle of the trip.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

After being led to a dressing room and provided with the costume she would be wearing into the procession, Liselle changed out of her commando leathers and donned the uncanny replicas of Aria's outfit. They had been tailored to the dimensions of another individual—the asari originally meant for the portrayal of Aria—but they fit her well enough for the extra space to go largely unnoticed. The pants were no problem for her lithe legs, but she found the corset unnecessarily complicated and uncomfortable. She struggled with the clasps for several minutes before the garb was securely fastened around her torso, but the metal buckles had sharper edges than the real corset and the texture of the black belts was coarse against the skin of her waist. The experience made her wonder if the replica was simply of inferior quality, of if these were truly the conditions Aria regularly endured to look good. As for the most essential feature of the ensemble, the legendary white jacket, it would be brought to her after her false tattoos had been painted on.

Liselle left the dressing room and entered the tiny studio on bare feet, carrying the heeled boots instead of wearing them in fear of stumbling and breaking an ankle. She set them down at the base of the chair she climbed into, and awaited the makeup artist while facing a mirror.

She wasn't fond of her situation. Her fear of being as Aria was ate at her and eroded her confidence. Was it possible to be too good of an impersonator? Liselle profoundly hoped so, and hoped that she would be as mediocre as Sahra Igrahal insinuated. And not only was she disturbed by the prospect of being discovered; it also deeply frustrated her to once again find herself chasing her mother's shadow, still unable to create distance between them and forge her own independent persona. Around every corner, it seemed to her, there was Aria again and again, infinitely.

At last the makeup artist had arrived. Liselle swiveled her cream-cushioned chair around to greet the batarian woman, who remarked upon first seeing her, "So you're our Aria for the day? Well met."

The artist spent a few moments examining her face, planning her methods of transformation and deciding whether her skin tone was close enough to Aria's. She deemed Liselle a decent replacement, 'good' even, when taking into consideration the amount of time they had to find a usable substitute.

"Okay—Liselle, right? I'm going to paint on your tattoos and then look you over a final time to see if you need anything else." The artist began preparing her cosmetics, face paints, and brushes on a simple folding table at her side.

"Sahra Igrahal mentioned that you'd be able to tell me what'll be expected of me when I go out there," Liselle said as the tip of a brush touched the inner curve of her eye socket, slowly sweeping along her brow with decreasing pressure. She appreciated the gentleness of the woman's steady hold on her jaw, as opposed to Sahra Igrahal's harsher treatment of her. Liselle had kept as still as possible while speaking.

"It really is as simple as she alluded," the artist reassured her. "You'll be put on a throne and carried around for a few kilometers. Actors portraying gods sometimes have to hold certain poses associated with traditional depictions of a specific deity. So they often need to practice, even build muscle. For example, our Anoragot needs to hold out both his hands the _entire time_. As for Aria, you only need to cross one leg over the other, tilt your chin up, and pretend you own everyone around you." She smiled briefly before completing one side of Liselle's face, and began attending to the other.

Liselle was only able to remain quiet for a minute. "So... Sahra Igrahal also told me that Aria participated in one of these parades a long time ago."

"That's correct. She volunteered herself shortly after coming into power. I have the vid saved as a reference, if you want to see it."

"I would, thank you."

The artist laid down her brush to establish a short-distance link between their omni-tools and transferred the file to Liselle. The maiden accessed and played the vid, holding out her arm to view the projected screen while the brush was reapplied to the side of her face.

The vid was brief, but its contents were captured from an excellent, front-row view of the parade as it proceeded. She listened to spectators cheering as three actors playing the roles of gods passed, seated upon grand and ornate thrones, and carried by muscular batarians with symbols marking every stretch of flesh not covered by their lower-caste styles of attire. Liselle found it notable that although they were supposedly of low-caste, the quality of their clothing was decidedly high due to some necessary posturing. Then Aria came into view, occupying a throne of her own; radiantly golden, with the seat itself lined with red fabric that deflected light as velvet would.

The scene well preceded Liselle's existence. She could see it in Aria's temperament. The way she appeared almost _too_ proud, dousing herself in the showers of praise as if it intoxicated her. She was burning brightly, like a sun, and held herself in equal importance. Before the vid ended Liselle watched Aria lift her arms and speak well of the batarian people, rousing a new round of shouts from those who had recently found themselves benefiting from the economic strategies and offers of mercenary protection she had extended over the Mazat District. This was no reluctant deification, as it might have been for the previous ruling warlords of Omega. They genuinely loved her, nearly as one of their own.

"Previous actresses have asked me what it means to be Aria," the artist said after the vid had ended. "Advice for the parade. Although I'm not qualified to make that sort of judgment, I always tell them the one thing I know for sure: Aria is whatever she needs to be. She'll be a different person to everyone in the galaxy if that's what it takes to achieve the goals she sets for herself."

Liselle felt the tip of a thinner brush paint two short arcs to unite her brow.

"One last touch," said the artist. She instructed Liselle to part her lips before running a line from the center of her bottom lip to the very base of her chin. "This line is a bit more permanent than the others so it won't rub away easily if you accidentally press your lips together too much. Don't touch that lip for about five minutes and it should set. Wash with soap when the parade's over. It'll take most of the paint right off, but this last line might faintly linger for another day."

She did as advised while the artist reviewed her work, only further altering Liselle's appearance by subtly suggesting a certain bone structure with a bit of skilled shading. Upon completion she reoriented Liselle's chair in the direction of the mirror, allowing the girl to see the results.

Liselle initially felt as though her mother were staring at her from the depths of the mirror, and it startled her until her first impression was dissolved by the sight of her own features surfacing through the amendments to her face. She had never once thought that it was possible to resemble Aria this closely; and the feeling was made doubly unnerving due to the fact that hardly any additional cosmetics had been used aside from the paint illustrating her false tattoos.

She was completely, truly, and unmistakably, her mother's daughter.

Much time was spent studying herself in the mirror. Liselle paid little attention to the artist gathering up her supplies, and to the sound of the door opening and admitting her squadmates into the room. They were in possession of the white jacket, having volunteered to pass it onto Liselle so that they might see her new appearance personally. She pulled her boots on before addressing them.

When Liselle faced them she half-expected her costume to bring forth a round of laughter, but oddly enough, Rasma and Malak were wide-eyed and visibly unsettled. The two waited for the artist to leave before handing over the jacket, which fell around Liselle's shoulders much like the corset had around her torso—somewhat loosely, but not inconveniently so. She noticed a flaw in the sleeves. They were not connected to the shoulders quite as they should have been, but she decided not to take the complaint to anyone. From her first impression of Sahra Igrahal, she would likely end up ruining one of her assistants' day.

The peculiar reticence of her squadmates was beginning to trouble Liselle. Curiously, she asked them what was wrong.

Rasma and Malak exchanged an uneasy glance before their unit's leader responded, "Ar—" she caught her error, "I mean, Liselle... Lekahn and I were talking earlier. We were speculating. We were tossing around ideas, these... possible explanations for why you're here, why you know the things you know, why Aria's... why she's lenient with you."

Liselle had never felt colder in her entire life. Her limbs were frozen in place, and her lungs painfully ached while their usage was held in abeyance.

Rasma uncomfortably continued, "And it just seems to make sense. You see, Liselle..." She exhaled, looking hard at her with her green eyes. "We think we know who you are."

"Don't say it!" Liselle suddenly exclaimed, pushing herself up from her chair and surprising them all. She repeated quietly, with the fear in her expression still wild and frantic, "Don't say it."

For a moment they stood shocked, unable to assemble a coherent string of words.

"Do... not... say it," Liselle nearly whispered. She had even stunned herself, and a light tremble had found her hands. After regaining an ounce of control over her violently twisting instincts, she explained in a low voice as dire as a funeral, and with an equal amount of certainty and finality, "If you say it... You will _die_. You don't _understand_. If you know who I am..." She slowly began shaking her head, with the rictus of horror still indelibly etched into her features. "You'll _die_."

Her words had seemed to hollow Rasma to the point of pallor visible even through the carapace shielding her softer flesh beneath, while Malak had looked away and began to ceaselessly nod in understanding. At once they had both grasped the severity of Liselle's statement, despite her inability to eloquently describe the true extent of the peril they had unwittingly placed themselves in. The threat of Aria's wrath descending upon them brightly, hotly, and swiftly, was an almost palpable sensation that drove Malak to nervously look back over his shoulder. Aria _would_ kill them regardless of their deeds and usefulness to her, if they were indeed correct about Liselle's identity. It was only the merciful benevolence of Liselle herself that might have spared them a terrible and sudden fate.

"You can't talk about this," Liselle told them. "You have to take this to the _grave_."

They did not need to be informed twice. After stumbling over some words as well as their own feet, Rasma and Malak left the room as if escaping from Aria herself. When they were gone Liselle slumped back down into her chair, hunched over, and buried her face in her hands.

She had failed. She had utterly failed.

Death was all about her head, circling her, haunting her. Would it be her? Would it be her squadmates? The dark void eternally pawing at their backs rarely arrived announced.

Liselle felt a sob rising in the depths of her throat and tears welling up her eyes, but she did not permit them passage from their origins lest she smear the artist's work on her face. Painfully, she swallowed her dread in heavy gulps.

Aria T'Loak did not cry nor did she fear death, but Liselle did.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Following their impatient migration into Tevos's bedroom both she and Aria meant to resume where they had left off, but found themselves caught up in a conflict over what positioning suited their desires the most. A conflict, a competition, or merely a sort of foreplay that left them struggling and disheveled; Tevos would never have known nor cared how to name it appropriately. Her nightshirt was hiked up over her chest, and all other articles of clothing were absent from her body save for her underwear still clinging to her hips, while Aria hadn't yet bothered to remove her pants. Together they were a mess of frantic hands and stumbling fingers, writhing and wrestling indistinguishably upon the sheets.

For a time Aria allowed Tevos to hold her ground against her, being generous enough to permit a period where Tevos had, with a breathless laugh and a smile, folded and secured one of Aria's arms against her back only to see her break free of the hold with ease a moment later. Her bedroom behavior continued to fascinate Tevos. The more she learned of Aria the more she realized just how much she enjoyed challenges, and even manufactured them for her own enjoyment so long as she was certain that losing was impossible.

When Tevos lost her advantage Aria reversed their roles, turned them over, braceleted her fingers around Tevos's wrists, and pinned them to the mattress as she began roughly grinding her hips down onto hers. Only when she had arranged their legs as she saw fit—locked in place with a thigh assertively held between Tevos's legs, and one of hers taken between her own in reciprocation—did Aria release her hands and rake her nails down her abdomen while rocking against her.

Tevos relished the attention for a time, but soon Aria's ever-increasing aggression had culminated with the introduction of teeth against her shoulder, marking her in areas where no one in the Embassies could see, as nails continuously ran harshly along her skin and left faint violet streaks in their wake on the trembling surface of her stomach. She dipped her head low, delivering a bite to the top of her breast that drew more pain than pleasure. Aria was blatantly excited, but her abandon was overwhelming. After she had pressed down against Tevos with enough force to bruise her, or even herself due to her imprudence, Tevos was driven to voice her growing disapproval.

"Aria, you need to cool down a bit," she weakly said between her panting, struggling to maintain the anchoring grip on her body which had attempted in vain to reduce some of her fevered enthusiasm.

Aria stopped at her request and lifted her head. The area around her pale blue irises had darkened to a lustful, stormy gray, plainly illustrating her eagerness to the point where the instinctive urge to meld with her partner had begun seeping its way into her body and taking hold. It was a daunting but breathtakingly sensual sight. She then shared with Tevos, albeit greatly to her offense, "My favorite dancer loves it when I rough her up before fucking her."

Tevos gave an exasperated sigh and placed her hands on Aria's chest, pushing some space between them. "I don't want to hear about your dancer right now," she said, the insistent ache within her making her sound more lethal than she originally intended. Aria's comment was entirely uncalled for. Unless, of course, it was in revenge for Falteus. But even so, the two weren't equatable. Tevos had never lain with Falteus and had no concrete plans to, whereas Aria's dancer was likely a frequent visitor to her bed.

Aria hadn't seemed to make the distinction. Instead she made herself accommodating again by lowering her hands to Tevos's chest and massaging them over the fading lines and tender marks she had left behind. "Now, what should I do with you tonight?" she asked, expecting her words to send a chill down the councilor's spine.

Still displeased with her, Tevos vengefully stated, "I thought you had already decided to pretend I was your _dancer_."

A breath of amusement left Aria. "Oh, have I made you jealous?"

"N-No you... you _thoroughly_ destroyed the mood by mentioning her, is all."

"Destroyed the mood?" Aria repeated in false pity. "I can't see how thinking about bending a dancer over and making her whine for me could destroy anyone's mood... Unless they were a little jealous."

Tevos pushed her again, holding her at bay. "I am not _jealous_."

"Then why are you upset?" Aria gently asked her.

A small disgruntled sound left Tevos's throat; one she rarely made, and especially not in any refined company. She refused to inform Aria, but she _had_ felt envious at the mention of her concurrently sleeping with someone else. This dancer could never have supplied the same quality of interactions that Tevos did, never. But Aria herself was also a recipient of her ire, and perhaps a larger one. How could she be so tasteless and uninspired as to wistfully crave the company of some vacuous Afterlife dancer as her bedfellow, when she had the asari councilor right in front of her?

_These are ugly thoughts_ , Tevos instantly checked herself, surprised and disturbed at how her normal demeanor could quickly twist into hideous shapes. Unnerved, she pondered the causes. Had being around Aria so often lately made her vindictive and spiteful, as if those characteristics were contagions? Had Aria's influence merely revealed less savory truths about herself? Both were viable explanations, but Tevos distinctly suspected that in this case she had only grown irritable with Aria for ruining the mood and further denying her gratification. As of the present, all she wanted was for Aria to shut her mouth about her dancer and touch her before the moment was completely unsalvageable.

"I'm not upset," she decided to say, sliding her hands down to Aria's belt where she began searching for its release with her fingers.

"That's good to hear." Aria seized her by the wrists, peeling her hands away from her pants and holding them to the bed again. Once secure, Aria leaned in and whispered beside her crest, "Now, back to my question—what should I do with you tonight?"

"It doesn't matter—What you did last time, I _really_ don't care, Aria."

Her agitation caused a smirk to spread across Aria's lips, left shamelessly visible to Tevos when she drew away. "I'll do something you'll like, sweetheart," she promised her, ignoring the bemused expression flickering across Tevos's features at the name. "But you need to let me have you like this." Aria let go of Tevos to grab her hips, and with ease she turned her over onto her stomach.

"No, no, _no_ ," she protested in mortification, ever the proper, tight-laced official. She immediately rolled herself back onto her side to better address Aria's bold suggestion. "Absolutely not. It is _too_ impersonal." To her refusal Aria responded with a roll of her eyes and a listless retreat of hands from her body.

It seemed to Tevos that they would never bring their fussing to a rest. She began to consider giving up for the night, since the idea of any sexual gratification was starting to look impossible unless they extended their session well into the morning in search of confluence. Perhaps they had now stumbled upon the limit at which their preferences ultimately diverged, dooming all future bedroom activities to fall apart. Tevos hoped that wasn't the case.

Aria leaned onto her side to directly face Tevos, supporting herself with an elbow buried in the mattress and an insouciant hand curled against her jaw. "I'll meld with you," she offered in negotiation. "That'll make it personal."

"I don't think that would be wise," Tevos replied, her breath catching in her throat at the proposal. She ran her gaze over Aria's face, studying her tattoos in the dim light and detecting no contortions of frustration in their lines.

"And why not?" Aria calmly inquired. "We've had a little taste of it before. Don't you remember how good it felt...?" A persistent hand reached forward, venturing beneath the material of Tevos's open nightshirt still hanging loosely onto her shoulders. She stroked her fingertips along her waist, following its elegant dip, lifting away at the curve of her hip, and beginning the trail anew.

"It... It was a long time ago," said Tevos with a mirthless sigh. "We were just caught up in the moment and bothered by each other."

There were few things she felt comfortable disclosing to Aria on the matter. Melding with Aria had been on her mind all night, incessantly prodding at the back of her conscience like an itch that was impossible to reach. She wanted to. She _knew_ she wanted to, but every time she admitted it to herself she would reflexively contrive a convenient excuse not to. She wasn't frightened of exposing Aria to any well-guarded secrets, no; she had sealed those away in fortified mental vaults and buried them beneath leagues of additional defenses, and she expected Aria had done the same for her own libraries of confidence. There would be no accidental bleeding over of anything terribly important. In bare reality she was—embarrassingly and merely—nervous about it. Nervous about what presence Aria's conscience would arrive in. Whether she would engulf her with intensity and tip the distributed enjoyment of the union selfishly in her direction.

"Are we not in the same position now?" Aria asked. She brought one of her legs forward, slipping it between Tevos's. Her hand came to rest in the valley of her waist, smoothing itself over her flesh enticingly, determined to persuade.

The leather of her pants felt luscious against her bare skin, and Aria's half-lidded gaze made her heart feel heavy and swollen within her chest. But Tevos failed to find words to say to her. Caught up in the moment, they had said. Thus far it had been quite a long moment, she wryly mused to herself.

To her silence Aria answered by drawing close, angling her head, and pressing her mouth to Tevos's neck. The councilor involuntarily curled into the caress, letting the shiver it elicited sweep down her spine like a bead of ice water, even as Aria's hand drifted down to her hip and guided her to lie on her back. Aria pursued her, hovering over her and lingering beside her neck. A wandering hand slipped past her thin waistband, but was presently content to palm the shallow vale descending from the rise of her pelvis on her right side. She had eclipsed Tevos with her body, lying atop her covetously as a canopy with the effective protection of reinforced steel. Tevos was, at times, astonished at herself for forgetting who Aria was and what she was capable of.

Tevos allowed her fingertips to glide over her upper back and shoulders, exploring the undulating blades and taut muscle just beneath the surface with idle strokes and abstract shapes. Her skin still burned with unfulfilled desire, but it felt exquisite. Aria was likely the most difficult lover she had ever taken, if not one of the most difficult people she had ever met, but it hadn't deterred her. She wondered why. A sudden thought struck her—was Tevos the difficult one in this circumstance, instead of Aria?

_I am but cultivated_ , she thought with a minuscule smile, still slowly tracing her nonsensical patterns into Aria's skin with the edges of her nails. _Meticulous, if you must. But we are probably equally as difficult to one another..._

"Regarding what you wanted me to do earlier," Tevos decided to address the issue, "I've just..." She stopped, trailing off due to her dearth of appropriate terms. Aria's steady breath against her neck implicitly informed her that she was listening. "I'm just hesitant for lack of..." She paused again to close her eyes and recollect herself. This time her hand stilled as well, her touch against Aria's warmed skin attenuated to a delicate, feather-like presence. "I have no real guarantee that I'll find it..."

Aria pulled back from her neck to issue her an odd look. It was unidentifiable until an intrigued smile tugged at her lips. "Wait," she said, latching onto the confession hidden in Tevos's false starts. "No one's ever done that for you?"

" _For_ me?" Tevos echoed in derision, her arms still draped around her neck. "Surely you mean _to_ me. You might have your dancer fooled but I'm not so easily misled."

"So you're telling me, that over hundreds and _hundreds_ of years, no one's ever bothered to bend you over your desk?"

Tevos was silent, her abashment manifesting in the light tint of violet staining her cheeks.

Aria shook her head in disapproval and clicked her tongue. "No wonder you never married," she said, her hand lowering to idly brush an inner thigh with her knuckles. "No one wants to have years of sex with someone whose bed habits are as interesting as a corpse's."

She slapped Aria's shoulder in offense, astounded at her apparent determination to dissuade her from having sex with her that night. "Then tell me; why are _you_ sleeping with me?" she sternly demanded that Aria explain, if her previous statement was true.

"I have a fantastic eye for potential," she slyly claimed. "And I can help you... explore a bit. Who knows—maybe after we make you into bondmate material I just won't be able to leave."

Tevos despised her jokes even more than her criticisms. There was no contest between them at all. "Maybe another time, Aria."

"Another time for what?" She feigned ignorance.

Her body grew rigid. "That."

"Bending you over? Use that erudite vocabulary of yours, Councilor." Aria leaned in to reacquaint their lips.

It was pleasant, that Aria had kissed her. So often was Tevos responsible for initiating it, and although Aria generally complied and returned the gesture, it was rare to see the urge build within her. The hands she held around her neck moved; one migrating to Aria's jaw, and the other remaining as it was. Tevos knew she would have a restless and inadequate sleep if she did not have her. She could still feel the stimulated pulse of her heart in her chest as well as she could between her legs, and both were insistent.

After some time Tevos pulled away to speak against Aria's lips, "Sometimes I believe the better question is why I'm sleeping with _you."_ The comment amused Aria. Bravely, softly, and with passion for the other asari, Tevos said to her, "Melding might be nice."

At her suggestion, Aria withdrew and brought her legs over the bed's side. She stood but immediately returned her hands to Tevos's waist, pulling her to the edge of the bed; and her touch drifted to her thighs, smoothing over them before hooking her fingers into her underwear. She savored the act of removing the simple but sleek garment. Once she had wrapped Tevos's legs around her waist she settled between them, her fingertips began to glide back her midriff. Aria pushed her shirt open and down her shoulders, exposing enough skin for her lips and teeth to latch onto, though she was careful to not leave any new blemishes behind while taking her neck into her mouth. The attention from her hands roughly trailing over her chest, in conjunction with the hungry lavishing of her neck soon left Tevos visibly flustered and yearning whenever she paused, at which time Aria retreated while seductively running her fingertips along the bare legs parted by her waist. She continued where Tevos had previously failed—she started unfastening the few belts of her pants, letting their metals audibly connect as she worked at them, fluent and familiar with their design as they were swiftly undone. After baring herself she hastily seized Tevos's hips, comfortably pulling them together.

A weak sigh escaped Tevos when she felt Aria's lower abdomen against her core, cool in comparison with her excitement. Her fingers twisted at the sheets beneath her in anticipation, simultaneously cursing and praising Aria for making her wait this long, as another hand braced itself against her firm stomach for a semblance of leverage. She felt Aria beginning to roll her hips against her, teasing her with a sense of what she intended to follow and repeating the motion for a torturous amount of time.

Tevos craved the touch of her fingers. She tried to conciliate her needs with the memory of how nice they felt fitted within her, caressing her with slow, exploratory thrusts. The memory only made her fingernails scrape impatiently against Aria's stomach until a pair of her digits slipped into her, meeting her ache and coaxing forth more of her arousal by deliciously working at the angles they had learned. They were removed before long, to Tevos's immense dissatisfaction, but an attempt was made to appease her when she saw the impossibly black gloss of Aria's eyes gazing at her with dark, potent desire.

The first seams of their meld as it began to weave their minds together were vaguely nostalgic. They were the familiar inky clouds of smoke cast off by the inferno that was Aria, drifting and billowing and brooding along. At their depths Tevos was surprised to not find the kilometer-high tongues of fire she had expected, but the luxurious, velvety heat of laying at the side of a hearth, whose everlasting flames warmed her to the bone but never burned. There was power, and there was assurance. But it was not wild. No longer did the fires of war lap hungrily at her flesh. They had departed or transformed into adamant embers of lust, embracing her possessively and pulling her further and further into herself until they had sewn themselves together.

For the first time in countless years, Tevos could hear Aria's thoughts.

Aria was basking in the cool waters of Tevos's mind, as if they had graciously doused her inner furnace and pacified her. It was all warm oceans. It was an exquisite, purely erotic feeling—washing and smoothing over her and pooling between her legs, and it _ached_ in the most pleasurable manner. Aria had melded with many individuals over the centuries; some were more like her, clashing and twisting frantically in battles for dominance, and others were much weaker and immediately crumbled to pieces beneath her pressure. But rarely did she ever encounter minds that so finely complimented her own, obliterating each other into paradise. Aria knew Tevos was a passenger to her thoughts, and she to hers, but their meld had meshed so cleanly, leaving behind no faulty stitches or frayed threads behind, that the bliss placated all her cares.

She showed Tevos what she wanted to do to her. What she had wanted to do to her for a _long_ time. She wanted to augment their bedroom activities with her biotics as she had done the other night, but she wanted to assign them a more active role. Instead of a thin veneer for her fingertips she wanted her deeply, using that same force that tied their minds together now, the same matter that coursed through her blood, an extension of her pure presence. And she wanted to feel in sympathy every reaction, every drop of pleasure drawn, every reward for her proficiency.

_Like that?_ she asked across their connection and received an affirmative answer, as well as approval.

They were both overflowing with impatience, that shared mood pouring back and forth ceaselessly between the amphorae of their minds and always seeming to accumulate more at each pass. Aria could not contain her light groan when she immersed herself in just how much Tevos wanted her. Hastily she grasped her hips and fulfilled their mutual longing. She held her steady and slowly proceeded, with the decadent initial discomfort and the following relief completely reverberating back into her own body without loss or discrepancy. Every sweet sensation was like an echo rising in a vast chamber, gradually fading into nothingness yet still lasting many seconds after its first experience. Aria pressed her hips forward, settling into a firm pace that pulled trembling breaths from their throats, some tumbling into tiny moans.

It took great effort on Aria's part to not allow her aggression to make itself apparent again. She was entrenched in a particular mood tonight, one that had her suppressing urges to dig her nails roughly into Tevos's pelvis and make her whine for her like Anthya would, but she resigned herself to moderation for Tevos's preferences. If she ceased to enjoy what was being done to her at any moment, Aria would as well. When Tevos felt her self-restraint she touched it and read into it, curious as she was, and dared to wonder about what it might have been like if she encouraged Aria instead of playing the arbiter to her appetite.

At the notion Aria bucked her hips forward with forceful enthusiasm, bringing a delicate exclamation stumbling past Tevos's lips. Though Aria gave a simultaneous, sharp gasp at the sensation reflecting deep within her she was able to regain her volition, and while still riding the pleasure of her momentary indulgence she said aloud in a satiny voice, "Ooh, don't tempt me..." She raked her fingernails along the thighs wrapped around her hips, trying to channel away some of the lasting compulsion so she wouldn't lose herself to it again.

After she gave another ragged exhale, Aria caught another thought fleeting across Tevos's mind. At the sound she made, Tevos had briefly imagined a situation where their position was reversed. There was Aria on the bed, sumptuously spread upon the sheets, her fingers fondling and gripping them tightly while she drew in shaking, labored breaths, and rocked her hips forward to deeply receive what was repeatedly given; then tilting her head back slightly to moan, completely sedated by her pleasure—a vivid image to which Aria reacted with a low, interested hum and a question regarding it, _Do you want to do that to me, Councilor?_

Lying would have been impossible at the moment. An earnest reply of _yes_ was given.

_Then you had better start practicing your biotics._

Aria was smugly pleased with the wave of flustered, but exhilarated embarrassment overtaking Tevos when she learned of Aria's amenability to the idea.

Aria lowered a hand between them and twisted the other in a clawed hold on the bed sheets, while slowly stilling her hips from distraction. They had made unconscious adjustments to their meld throughout its duration, having sought that optimal point at which physical touch was no longer instrumental. At last they stumbled upon the equilibrium, briefly overshot it but were quick to correct themselves, and held onto it desperately when it once again came into their possession. It surpassed, by far, all delights of flesh. Rapturous waves washed over them, igniting every nerve in their bodies, and sweeping them into a long and absolute surrender. For a while they remained there almost motionlessly, only animated by the expansion and collapsing of their chests as shuddering breaths broke the silence of the room.

All too soon Tevos had fallen back into the solitude of her own mind, weathering through a few moments of initial disorientation as she remembered which half of their union she was. Only the most well-orchestrated mating melds ever left her with this feeling; a warm daze of exhaustion as electric ghosts ran through her veins, as did the alloy of contentment and disappointment at being thoroughly satisfied by a partner whose lingering pleasure she could no longer feel in sympathy.


	22. A Good Day for Being Reckless

**THE TAYSERI GAZETTE — "Batarian Group Protests Deportation Measure"**

A large protest led by pro-batarian group Khar'shan Abroad and joined by their allied civil rights organizations had many commercial blocks in the upper Bachjret Ward inaccessible for several hours this morning to draw attention to the Citadel Council's unanimous decision to address a measure in the Council Chambers next week that would grant C-Sec the authority to set up random checkpoints to scan for passerby identification. Under the conditions of this measure, anyone lacking the appropriate visas or proof of legal residency is liable to be detained at random ID-scanning checkpoints by C-Sec and transported to their previous world of residence. Khar'shan Abroad and its allies took to the streets today to express their disappointment with the Council, and to highlight the possible ramifications of such a mandate passing despite the recent spike in population leaving visible stress marks on the markets and crime rates.

Khar'shan Abroad founder Vikra Kascabar spoke with our reporters following a plaza rally.

"I have always been a huge supporter of the Citadel Council," says Kascabar. "I _love_ what they stand for—democracy, cooperation, representation. But where has that all gone so suddenly, and on the holy days of Kephana, which are sacred to my people? I left the Hegemony to start a life where I knew my opinion counted for something, where every person counted for something. But to see this blatant racism from this Council—! They were our last defense against the majority's reflexive persecution of the batarian people! How can they still fail to understand that those who come to the Citadel seek the same freedoms they enjoy? We left for a [expletive] _reason!_ We are fleeing the Hegemony in droves for a reason! Let me tell you, if Thessia's e-democracy were crumbling while High Command seized absolute power, the Council would be throwing the Citadel's doors open for the fleeing asari whether it inconvenienced the economy or not! So yes, I'm furious. If you're publishing this I have a message for your readers: _attend the petition next week_. Help us persuade the Council to reconsider, to override this measure. My people are desperate to survive in a realm in which they have never been welcome."

The protest amassed nearly a thousand followers, and was eventually broken up peacefully by C-Sec for not possessing the required permits.

[Updated] Kascabar stated in a follow-up message to our reporters that nonviolence is an essential pillar of Khar'shan Abroad, and that he is particularly proud of the participants in today's march for upholding their reputation...

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

While Liselle had Aria's blue eyes, percipient and vivid with thought, the redness that framed her mother's irises was distinctly her own. But not once did Liselle let fall a single tear. Not when ascending her gilded throne and assuming the poise of a Queen she couldn't presently see herself ever becoming, regardless of whether Aria considered her a viable heir, or whether it was even within her capabilities; not when four batarian men with arms nearly as thick as her waist lifted her seat and followed the gods that preceded her from the mouth of the recreational hall and into the sublime valley of lit spires; and not when rows and rows of Omegan denizens praised her image and beseeched prosperity which Liselle herself could not give, nor did she believe that anyone _would_ give.

She kept her chin held high as advised, her gaze turned arrogantly away from her proverbial subjects and fixated on the buildings they passed, watching the lanterns glow and the air glitter with golden leaves raining down from balconies above. There was so much noise buzzing around her head—a great clamor of voices and music, drums and horns, drowning her like rich sea foam. Liselle never smiled, not as a cause from the character she played, but as a symptom of true despair. She was troubled to the bone, and quite fearful of lowering her eyes onto the crowd where she might find the faces of her team, just as mirthless as she, and just as wary of doom.

And what of those who might accidentally catch her gaze and find themselves staring into Aria, and pondering why it was that her body was not her own, but that of another asari, whose name just might have also been T'Loak?

Throughout the procession Liselle found herself imprisoned in the surreal experience of being caught between two identities, and _three_ if she counted her alias.

Indeed, what did it mean to be Aria T'Loak? Was it power? Was it image, was it control? Or had the makeup artist possessed a stunning amount of perception, and correctly identified her essence as _adaptability;_ to be anything she needed to be in any given situation, altering both behavior and approach as much as was required? Did she creep her way into the heart of their desires, only to rip their feet out from under them, place a boot upon their chest, and stand victoriously above?

And there was Liselle Kasantis; an operative without experience, scrambling and stumbling to keep up with the long strides of her allies and superiors, forever a falsehood walking among falsehoods. Ever fearful, ever vigilant, with guns at her belt that had only been fired in the universe of her lies.

But what of Liselle T'Loak? A maiden, forgotten yet prized, shut and locked away, still haunting the apartment in which she had been born, perhaps sentenced to die there as well, lifting most of her morals from extranet forums and her perceptions of the outside world from vids streamed to her omni-tool. She could not venture out into Omega. She could not leave the safety of her mother's arms to take upon the danger of her name, nor could she access her purpose, her future, her past... Liselle T'Loak was a person who could never be allowed to exist in any temporal or physical moment. Not until the Omegan dusk stretched on and on, and one day claimed Aria in its perpetual fire. Perhaps then Liselle T'Loak might live as the heir to a bereaved empire, or perhaps still she would cling to the shadows, hidden from the eyes of those who had usurped in her place.

Liselle's fingers curled into the golden armrests, lifting paint under her nails. She was no one, no one at all. She was torn between too many people, with pieces of her soul resting in too many names, too many places... A poignant feeling of incompleteness washed over her, filling her lungs with lead.

Admired as she was by the people of the Mazat District, she was only a shell. A vessel filled with blood but without an appellation, forever relying upon others to paint the blank canvas of her body and dress her in the garbs of another, always living in reference to an individual other than herself. She was no one. She was no one but another child of Omega. Cultureless, nameless, recordless.

Overwhelmed by the memory of her team's realization and her own distraught musings, Liselle lifted her gaze even higher, leaving the decorated, festive streets below and observed the inexhaustible labyrinth of spires, extending downward from a void capped by hollowed rock, caging them in an inverted reality, and making extranet images of rolling emerald plains broken by wide horizons seem empty and frightening.

The visceral cocktail of dread and anxiety churning within her made Liselle suddenly want to vomit, and she was only granted the strength necessary to contain the urge by a peculiar encroach of wrath like nothing she had ever experienced before. It was as if a dormant industry within her heart had roared to life, lighting its fires and producing a magnificent but agonizing heat that could only be doused if Liselle accomplished what she set out to do. It granted her the courage to keep her eyes level at the road ahead, undeterred by the expectant gazes of Omega, as their redness gradually faded into pink, and into white again.

It made her want to _fight_.

When the parade had completed its circuit Liselle came down from her throne to shed her costume and recover her own attire. After stripping down to her underwear in the privacy of the dressing's room adjoining restroom, she began scrubbing her face clean of the facial paint and watched the violet hues drip into the sink like blood and disappear. As the artist had warned her, the line bisecting her lip and chin faintly lingered, uncompromised by her excessive efforts to remove the reminder of her mother from her skin. She spent even more time dusting out bits of golden confetti that had fallen between the fronds of her crest.

When she pulled on her commando leathers and exited the dressing room to locate Sahra Igrahal and return the costume, Liselle was instead greeted by one of her assistants, who relieved her of the outfit and offered her access to the banquet. Additional food had been prepared and brought out, primarily in payment for the actors and workers in the parade. All at once Liselle recalled just how hungry she was, and made her way to the specified room within the building.

As the lone asari in the midst of many batarians, the leers she received while squeezing in between those gathered around the food and generously filling her plate to its edges were only mitigated by her helpfulness to Sahra Igrahal that day. She was grateful to have been approached by the actors who had portrayed the gods, who enthusiastically invited her into their circle when Liselle revealed that she worked for Aria. They offered her batarian ale, and she ate nearly as much as they did.

While sitting back in her chair, with the burn of alcohol resting in her stomach and seeping into her veins, Liselle watched the parade workers set up speakers and transform the area into a small dance floor. Lights were dimmed to a golden hearth, and tables were pushed to the walls as more gravitated toward the merriment. She was content to merely observe and tap her fingers onto the table in time with the lively rhythms, rather than risk embarrassing herself by placing her unfamiliarity with their culture on display for all to see. But the longer Liselle sat spectating in the dark corner near the food tables, idly and precariously twirling her last glass of ale on its bottom rim, the more her thoughts wandered. She hadn't heard from her team in nearly three standard hours. Were they also enjoying themselves? Were they already trying to collect their compensation for Liselle's efforts from Sahra Igrahal? Or had they fled in stark fear of Liselle informing Aria about their apparent knowledge?

_Should I even tell her?_ Liselle pondered. _I know what will happen. I know with certainty. Rasma and Malak would be dead within hours, but... Would they even dare to be a liability in the first place? I just don't see how. No one would know what information to torture out of them, or whatever they'd do, since there are so few people on Omega who even know I exist. And I think they're genuinely decent people. I do. They're not a threat to me or Mother. She really did choose them well, like she said. So, should she know? Would I be able to talk her out of killing them? Because I don't think I can tell her if I'm not able to do that._

Liselle reached into a pocket lying flat and taut against her hip, retrieving a worn, thin, days-old paper and peeled it open.

_Samesia Trakas_ , she read for the countless time. _Who are you? And what does Wasea think you know?_

Again the fires of an ambitious industry brightly burned within her, inspiring her move, to act, to _fight_. Initially Liselle hadn't the faintest idea of how to decipher the insatiable drive; to fight, she gleaned the obvious, but to fight _what?_ Some invisible barrier erected as a cage around her, partitioning her from... _what?_ What in the universe was Aria so reluctant to say to her, even when disclosure was explicitly defined by Liselle as tokens of love and trust? What was so lurid and horrifying about her father, about her previous life, about _anything at all_ that Aria couldn't bear letting her know?

Her thoughts made her want to stand up throw the table she sat at onto its face. Instead, she became very much aware of her solitude.

Liselle was ready. She was completely and utterly _ready_ to leave, to pursue Samesia in Tuhi, even if it meant abandoning her current mission. This was possibly her final chance, but at last no one was here to stop her. Not her team, and not her mother. No one.

It was a good day for being reckless.

Privately, Liselle asked herself what supplies she might need. She did not know for how many days she would be in the Tuhi District, nor what situations she might encounter. If she stumbled into any combat her biotics were her most formidable weapon aside from her submachine gun, and while her firearm was in no danger of consuming its ammunition block any time soon, her biotics would need to be supported by plenty of food. And it was doubtful that Liselle would find many sources of food in the Tuhi District, bloodied and war-torn, where violence pervasively spread throughout its ramose networks of streets and infected most if not all of its businesses and residents.

Liselle spent several minutes at the banquet long table, furtively wrapping up still-warm leftovers in biotically-shredded strips of tablecloth and any empty containers she could find. She bloated her pack with enough provisions to last a few days, if she rationed them.

Inconspicuously, Liselle absconded from the recreational hall without drawing any attention from the preoccupied batarian population, slipping out a back door and descending a ladder to an avenue running parallel to the main, wide bridging street, until it sloped downward several staired steps and ran beneath it, and continued on into the valleys between closely-connected spires.

After a fifteen-minute trek Liselle placed herself at a shuttle bay, prepared her credit chit, and waited along with a group of party-spent batarians for their transportation to arrive. She accessed a schedule of arrival times with her omni-tool when the wait elongated in proportion with her impatience, and shortly after the shuttle docked, only two minutes late, and parted its doors to them. They paid their fees, took their seats as its sparse passengers, and kept to themselves throughout the ride.

Two stops punctuated the ride into the Tuhi District. On the first, several drunken passengers hobbled up from their seats and disembarked deeper into a residential area of the Mazat District. On the second, Liselle was oddly left completely alone. Several minutes later and after immediately reaching the Tuhi border, an eerie, automated notification displayed on a screen above the door to alert her: _Bay 12-G Tuhi District is currently inaccessible. Rerouting to bay 14-G Tuhi District._

Liselle practically slammed her face into the window at her side as the shuttle passed the bay its computer had deemed unsuitable for docking. Far below, flickers of gunfire lit the dimness; broken streams of light pouring into one another, exchanged ceaselessly, at one time interrupted by the sudden flash of a grenade, expelling fiery light and a bang that was even audible to Liselle. The last sight she caught of the distant skirmish was an erupting blue glow, the unmistakable sign of a biotic personally entering the fray. The maiden peeled herself away from the window, slumping back into her seat with wide eyes as the shuttle rattled on, searching for an elusive location at which its sole passenger could be released into the warzone.

Her hands felt chilled. Too abruptly for her liking, Liselle realized just why she was the only one flying into the Tuhi District.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Under normal conditions Tevos was accustomed to rising quite early each morning, allowing herself plentiful time for performing her morning ablutions and dressing to the impeccable, dignified standards she set for herself, all while setting aside an hour for some leisure, or for any pressing tasks that had yet to be completed. Today she would not have her spare hour. She had spent it in bed, still weary from the night's meld and reluctant to leave its sheets for her shower. Instead she had watched Aria's back as it lightly rose and fell, and sometimes she had turned her eyes onto the thin beams of light seeping through her closed blinds and wrapping luminously over her furniture. At last she stood and began her regimen, leaving Aria to doze alone.

She heard Aria moving about while standing in her bathroom, facing the mirror above her sink as she applied a bit of moisturizing lotion to her neck and face while simultaneously checking for any conspicuous discolorations along her throat, determined to not repeat the same mistake twice. Through the opened door she peered into her bedroom, softly illuminated by the cool gray light of morning, and saw Aria in the process of tugging on her close-fitting pants, having to arch her posture for a quick second before giving the final pull that brought them over her hips. Tevos smiled in secrecy, finding the inelegant technique comical, before returning her eyes to her reflection. She only glanced back one last time to find Aria searching for the mate to the boot she carried in hand, at which time she took the opportunity to inquire, "Aria? Are you going to have a difficult time leaving, since it's daytime?"

Aria ceased her search to glance over her shoulder and simply replied, "Not at all."

"Are you certain?" Tevos cautiously asked.

Rather than issuing her assurance, Aria set her single boot down and leisurely made her way to the bathroom. She passed through its open door frame, took a sauntering step that brought her half-behind, half-beside Tevos, and met her eyes in the mirror. A hand reached forward to slyly brace itself against the sink, providing Aria with the leverage needed to lean forward and say to her, "Councilor, when I was still a maiden on Thessia I once sweet-talked my way out of a pair of police handcuffs. I think I can handle it."

Though skeptical, Tevos looked away from Aria's reflection to assess her in person. She was still shirtless, with her hip cocked at an angle and her chin tilted a few degrees upward. Confidence radiated from her body, naturally and plentifully.

Unimpressed and remaining a bit concerned, Tevos flatly quipped, "I'm sure you're about to tell me that you sweet-talked maidens _into_ them as well," before turning to the mirror again while meticulously fixing the collar of her dress.

Aria was delighted by her response. "It's like you've been reading my mind," she purred, a smirk spreading across her lips.

Tevos laughed softly at the terrible pun, wondering how Aria could make such an atrocity genuinely humorous.

"Did you enjoy last night?" Aria asked her.

"I did," was Tevos's truthful reply, although she was very well aware of her question bridging into something else.

"I've been thinking about something," said Aria, confirming her suspicions while drawing near. "And I know how you adore my ideas. You had misgivings about something I proposed..." She lifted her hand from the sink, bringing it up to fit a pair of fingers beneath Tevos's chin. She guided her to face the mirror again. "And I'd say _that_ is personal enough. You'd be able to see me the whole time. I'm sure you'd like that."

Tevos smiled, fighting back a delicate blush. "Very cute, Aria. But that wasn't quite my actual concern. I meant to say that the... specific _style_ of intimacy maintains a focus which neglects the interpersonal benefits."

"And you're fond of the 'interpersonal benefits'?" Aria casually inquired.

"They're fairly important to me."

"So how could we rectify that?"

Tevos withdrew into consideration, analyzing their reflections as she did; how Aria had rested her chin upon her shoulder, placing her head beside the councilor's as she delivered a calm stare to the mirror, an expression of latent and tempered hunger. She was waiting for Tevos to give her information she could use as tools of persuasion. While terribly clever, Aria's habits and mannerisms were gradually becoming more transparent to Tevos. She now usually had an inkling as to what Aria's intentions were when dealing with less vital manners, when her guard was just low enough for Tevos perform the necessary decryption.

Originally, Tevos had rejected the positioning Aria had in mind for its more carnal implications. It was a little much for her tastes. Tevos held dialogue between partners, both verbal and nonverbal, in high regard, and when held as such the dialogue seemed as though it would vanish to make way for selfish derivation of pleasure, as if each partner were merely an inanimate well from which to draw water excessively and without mindfulness. There wasn't anything _inherently_ wrong with it, Tevos acknowledged. She simply found it to generally lie outside of what she personally wanted to receive from sex. But to truthfully answer Aria's question, she was still obligated to ask herself: under what conditions _would_ she have liked it? What might soothe her, what would entice her? What would compensate?

One possible solution came to mind. Tentatively, she revealed it. "It's a little trivial, but..." Tevos's hand slipped into Aria's, the back of hers resting against the latter's palm. She lifted her fingers through the spaces between Aria's, weaving them together, and curled them inward to deliver their paired hands to her lips, which she gently applied to Aria's knuckles.

Aria laughed, though the sound came from deep within her and only emerged as a few amused breaths. "You want me to hold your hand?" she inferred.

The councilor smiled against their fingers, expecting her to reject the condition she was proposing due to its implied affection. She was stunned when she didn't.

"I can do that," Aria quietly agreed with a roguish smile. She wrapped an arm around her lower waist, impatiently gathering and fondling the material of her dress between her fingers. "Why don't we try it, then? Right here, right now."

"Oh, Aria, I don't know..." Tevos said in hesitation, even as Aria lowered their hands to the sink counter. To herself, Tevos admitted that she was considering it. Last night her aversion had been instant due to sheer surprise, but after she had been given some time to contemplate it, the idea was not so horrible if she convinced Aria to be tasteful about it. And she had not even needed to truly convince her. Aria had already offered her more accommodating terms, and promised to comply with those Tevos proposed. And the way Aria looked at her now—intensely, insatiably—made her almost quiver.

After spending time linked to her through a meld so skillfully constructed by two experienced consciences as its architects, she felt closer to Aria instinctively—subtly influenced by a longing which had, over eons, developed within her people after encountering a particularly enjoyable melding partner, driving them to seek union again for that simulated enlightenment and wholeness. It was, from an evolutionary point of view, a device to encourage healthy conception, but when unconsciously filtered through the rosy glass of sentience it manifested as a feverish urge to lie with her again, and as she exhibited now, Aria was not immune to it either.

But it certainly wasn't a convenient time to do so, especially since she had just finished preparing herself for the workday; dressed and proper, lightly perfumed and already in her heels... Maybe if she had tried to ask her while they were still in bed, supported by a comfortable mattress, silky sheets, and pillows for cushioning or perhaps even elevation for her hips, and while Tevos had lied there blearily and fondly entertaining her lasting arousal for Aria with thoughts of the previous night, as well as plentiful fantasies for the future. At that time, she might have agreed more readily.

Aria rested her free hand on Tevos's hip, speaking lowly against her crest, "We can be quick about it. You won't even have to take off your dress."

Tevos had once believed her interest in Aria's type to have departed along with her maiden years. Those drastic, smoldering sorts with lights of mischief in their eyes; cultists to the religion of self-indulgence and trouble-making, whose glaring, reckless faults made them all the more attractive for having the fitness to survive themselves. And Aria—she was _so_ attractive, composed, and experienced, even while wrapped up in her apparent passion for danger. Tevos estimated her to be roughly her own age, yet it always felt as if a year was shed from her life for every minute they spent together. Aria brought her back to those exciting days when everything was new and uncharted, when her identity and convictions were most flexible, when her sexuality was not yet solidified. If she were to try anything new, it was only appropriate that it be with the one who had planted that retrograde bloom of freedom within her, she thought.

She turned a bit to face Aria, brushing her dress against her bare chest. "Remember last night, when you advised me to practice my biotics?" she asked her.

"Mm-hmm." Aria hummed.

"You would let me do that to you? You would enjoy it?"

"Why are you surprised?" she inquired, then leaned in terribly close to whisper against Tevos's crest, her lips nearly upon her skin. "I know what I like, Tevos. I know what I like well enough to tell you this: I'm far more versatile than you'd expect. But... probably less than you'd hope."

She still pitted her doubts against her desires, even as the new knowledge burned in her mind. Strangely, it comforted her, excited her. "We both need to be somewhere, Aria," Tevos informed her, though her statement was not meant as an argument.

For a time Tevos considered Aria's offer, gazing at them both in the mirror's reflection and imagining for herself the quality of Aria's performance necessary to convince her that she had been somehow missing out due to excessive prudence.

And preference was malleable, certainly, but not always. It was a simple experiment. One with little commitment; if she found it highly enjoyable, she would continue to the end, and if she still found it unfavorable, Tevos completely trusted Aria to stop upon her request. Lamenting her work-ready appearance a final time, Tevos lowly asked Aria, "Do you think you can do it in ten minutes?"

Aria continued to quietly and intimately speak against the side of her head, this time with a pleasant smile in her voice, "Councilor, if you want me to I can have you done in less than five."

" _Really?_ " Tevos questioned her veracity, the vaguest remnants of a laugh lining her tone.

"Really," insisted Aria. Her fingers were already at Tevos's dress zipper at the back of her neck, pulling it down to expose a large enough expanse of skin to press her lips to. While concentrating her lavish attention in the curve where her neck sloped into her shoulder, Aria's eyes flitted upward to send Tevos a voracious expression with the aid of the mirror. Upon hearing Tevos shakily exhale and seeing her eyes shut, Aria pressed forward to brace her against the sink, kicking her legs apart and using her own to keep them there. Her hands hastily worked at her pants, then at Tevos's dress, hitching it up with handfuls of expensive fabric until it had been lifted past her calves, the backs of her sleek thighs, and held gathered at her hips.

Aria pressed her pelvis to her backside to keep her clothing as it was and leaned forward, breasts flush against her back, before pinning one of the councilor's hands to the sink after lacing their fingers together as requested. She returned her lips to Tevos's lower neck, biting her suddenly and making her sharply inhale. Aria's recent fixation on marking her beneath the cut of her dresses was beginning to overstay its welcome, and no matter how many times Aria pressed her lips to the tender spot in dubious consolation, Tevos thought to at least demand her reasons. She never had to.

She felt and heard Aria breathe against her neck, "Ooh, just what will that insipid military man of yours think...?" Aria brushed their legs together, exuding impatience. "When he finds out that his prim, classy date is seeing someone who gets her off far more thoroughly than he ever would?"

So that was it, Tevos thought. More revenge. "Y-You know he isn't—We're not—"

"I know you aren't," Aria said against the side of her head, voice sublimely low. "And I know you aren't the sort of woman who feels comfortable handling two... frontiers. I've just made a habit out of being overly prepared."

She lowered a hand between them as her mouth harshly migrated to Tevos's shoulder, beginning to stroke her through her underwear in a way that made her inner legs shift against the outsides of Aria's in divine anticipation. With a final kiss Aria left a violet bruise behind on Tevos's collarbone before she pushed her underwear to one side and slipped a pair of fingers into her with ease, and the gratification she instilled brought a soft, nearly inaudible sound to Tevos's lips. She felt Aria immediately settling into the motions she liked most, gently relaxing any lasting tightness in her body and improving her mood to the point where letting Aria have her in this manner seemed a delight Tevos regretted not indulging in sooner. Aria spent generous time coaxing out more of her arousal, listening attentively to every delicate sound of approval that left her lips, until she deemed her ready enough to slowly ease a third digit into her. Tevos tightened her fingers around Aria's where they remained secured on the cool white counter, clarifying to her the slight discomfort she was causing her.

Aria answered her with gentle, shallower strokes, reassuring her while she gradually reintroduced the depth of her thrusts she had temporarily forfeited. Another string of shuddering breaths departed Tevos as she accepted the repeated intrusion, adoring how it felt to have Aria inside her again, asserting her presence to which she found her body eagerly welcoming. She felt as if her entire body had been consumed by a warm blush, heated by the way Aria touched her; the softness of her lips and the harshness of her teeth against her skin, the elegant dexterity of her fingers, and the steady strength of her wrists. Her enjoyment steadily rose with every second, and when Tevos acquiesced to her building desire to rock her hips back onto her hand, she also made minor adjustments to the placement of her legs and hips to better accomodate the angle Aria was relying upon, substantially amplifying her pleasure once she found the best position. Her heels lightly clicked against the floor as she restlessly fretted, a bit too impatient to finally experience Aria having her as she promised. A fragile whimper disguised as a sigh departed her.

She heard Aria suddenly curse in acute satisfaction, saying quietly, roughly, but appreciatively, " _Fuck_ , keep your heels on more often when we do this..."

In a moment of intoxicated desire Aria withdrew her fingers, brought her hand forward to seize Tevos's, and subjected it to the same conditions as the one currently pinned to the sink's counter. Temporarily deprived of intimacy, Tevos squeezed her hand again to communicate her want, but was not forced to wait long before Aria compensated her. In place of her digits Aria filled her as she had the night before, intent on purposefully and competently demonstrating what Tevos had once declined. She focused to keep her biotics as tangible as possible, taking her deeply and firmly as they both continued searching for the most comfortable and pleasurable posture. At last Tevos found herself able to relax and enjoy herself, letting nothing distract her from the lovely sensation Aria was producing within her, save for recurring thoughts about how it would've felt to have Aria's hands on her waist instead, exquisitely brushing down her sides to her hips where they'd hold her steady and possessively, if she hadn't insisted on them being united with hers in reassurance. She thought about Aria herself, highly appreciative of her experience, her enthusiasm, and how deliciously strong she proved herself to be with every vigorous forward press of her hips. It hadn't been very long at all, yet Tevos could already feel herself starting the steep climb to release. As if tuned to her desires, Aria released one of her hands to hold onto her hip, helping her fully receive everything she gave.

"Talk to me, sweetheart," Aria said between uneasy breaths. "Am I making you feel good...? Would you let me do this for you again?"

Tevos made to answer, but abruptly interrupted herself with a small, restrained cry when Aria found the perfect spot within her. She was grateful that Aria had not persisted against the same location. If she had, she might have never regained enough composure to finish her rely at all. "Goddess, Aria... _yes_..." For the second time that morning she wished they were still in bed, where she could've stifled her vocalizations with her pillow and arched her back like she wanted to, comfortably. Her fingers clutched tightly around Aria's for a time, trying to extract from her interlaced digits the steadiness of voice she had lost. "I... I want to meld with you..."

Aria purred against her crest in reply, "That's quite considerate of you to offer, but no... This is all for you this time..."

Her words, spoken like velvet on her voice, threatened to erode Tevos's resolve to not send her mind colliding with Aria's. She knew they were both still riding an increase in libido obtained during the night, but she couldn't help but feel as though they were somehow consummating or validating their affair by willfully conceding to the impulse. All that remained was a meld to complete her wistful interpretation. Without it, Tevos reveled in the attention alone, receiving the full distribution of the pleasure while never pressured to share it, yet still she would've preferred to, if only to reveal to Aria just how wonderful she was making her feel, and with some abashment, how much she might have wanted Aria to press just a bit harder into her.

Although Aria seemed to love hearing more of those sounds stumble past her lips whenever she pressed her hips forward just right, the technique was not abused. Aria was investing a bit more of her limited time to properly build her up, determined to perform well, and resisting the urge to send Tevos violently over the edge. She was holding back, only reaching the place that consumed Tevos with pleasure on occasion. But Aria's own arousal was evidently brimming, bleeding over into the ever-growing vigor of her actions, instilled there by a burning desire for satisfaction but an inability to achieve it in her self-imposed circumstance. Yet Tevos enjoyed her fracturing restraint, as it posed a small window into Aria's experience that was otherwise absent without a meld. Tevos tenderly stroked the side of Aria's thumb with her own in encouraging approval.

After lowering her hand between the councilor's legs where it remained, Aria finally focused exclusively on the spot within her that made her tremble and cry out beautifully, skillfully angling her hips and tending to it until she felt Tevos stiffen against her, legs instinctively pulling together but held apart by strong thighs. Just a few seconds elapsed before Tevos unraveled into a string of shaking exhales, some devolving into delicate whimpers as she found relief. Aria remained as she was, holding her hips assertively forward to help Tevos ride out all the diminishing waves without relent.

When she had begun to settle down, Aria leaned in to rest her chin on Tevos's shoulder, and whispered informatively to her, "Five minutes."

An uneasy, breathless laugh left Tevos. "I _know_ you weren't actually counting..." She gave a long sigh in an attempt to calm herself further, then turned in Aria's direction to bring the sides of their mouths briefly together in a haphazard kiss. Tevos could still feel her heart hammering passionately in her chest, as well as the periodic, savory aftershock between her legs drawn out by the pleasurable sensation biotics naturally offered.

It may have been the flood of blissful satisfaction influencing her opinion, but in that moment Tevos thought Aria to be _such_ a proficient lover. She knew Aria would establish herself as no less, but regardless, Tevos was impelled to issue credit where it was due. Earlier in the morning she had awoken feeling as light as air, despite even the slight ache in her body inflicted by Aria's particularly rough foreplay, and now she felt utterly open and fulfilled, with every point of stress in her body pacified completely. She could not decide which experience had been more enjoyable. She only hoped that Aria's generosity was not a prelude to something more insidious. Upon thinking such, however, she immediately stopped herself from ruining the moment, as her worries often did. As if to divert her thoughts from doubt, she felt Aria give a few more conciliatory forward rolls of her hips to successfully draw forth any unspent reaction within her before pulling away at last.

With both hands now free, Tevos lifted one of them to stroke her fingertips against the side of Aria's face as both her heart rate and breathing settled into normalcy. Her dress was released, tumbling back down her legs and revealing itself to be marred with wrinkles which Tevos hoped would easily smooth out with just the efforts of her hands.

"Very well, it's something you've done _for_ me," she quietly humored Aria when turning to kiss her again, and felt the other asari returning it with the heated desire of one who had neglected her own pleasure. Aware of her predicament, Tevos retreated enough to say to her, "And since you only took five minutes... I might be able to spare five more for you." Her fingertips traced the hem of Aria's opened pants, soon descending into them.

"Ooh, look at you," Aria said, giving an intrigued smile at the proposition. "Not heading into your office early, spending a workday morning having sex with—" She inhaled and grunted lightly when Tevos's slender fingers smoothly glided into her, her brow creasing at the appreciable amount of physical gratification the gesture provided. Resisting the urge to further lower herself onto those digits to relieve some of the ache in her core required no small amount of self-control. Still she adamantly finished her remark, with her lips almost brushing against the councilor's, "—with your favorite mob boss."

Tevos closed the minimal distance between them to kiss her once, then moved to her jaw as she began working her fingers into her, stroking torturously slowly upon the withdrawals, and rewarding her compliance with depth and pressure from the heel of her palm. Her free hand wandered to Aria's lower back, running her fingertips soothingly along her skin and keeping her steady as she touched her, planning to soon migrate them to a more comfortable location. She managed to coax out a throaty hum of pleasure from Aria before she seized her wrist and strangely declined the attention. "It's tempting," Aria admitted, "but... I want more than five minutes from you. And I can wait for it." Reluctantly, she eased Tevos's fingers from between her legs, sighing in discontent at their loss, but remained unyielding in her decision.

"Are you sure?" Tevos asked her, perplexed. "There will be other, longer opportunities where I'd probably give you your 'more than five minutes' regardless of whether we did this now or not."

"I want you to _owe_ me," Aria explained, sounding excited by the idea. "And as for now... I'm sure I can handle it myself."

Aria sent Tevos one last roasting, flirtatious gaze from over her shoulder while running her fingertips lightly against her backside. She left the bathroom, closing the door behind her and providing Tevos with a few needed minutes to straighten out her somewhat disheveled appearance. As she hastily performed the necessary reparations, Tevos could not help but wonder what Aria was presently doing, given how well she had responded when she started touching her, and the self-inflicted frustration crossing her face when she had severed herself from the contact she craved. It suddenly became hard to breathe when Tevos's mind wandered to the subject of how Aria touched herself—what she liked, whether she stayed quiet, how she positioned herself; all questions that might have helped Tevos understand how to touch _her_ well, if she could repeat the ideal conditions Aria had discovered through years of self-exploration. The thoughts brought a dash of violet to her cheeks, visible to herself in the mirror.

When she once again deemed herself acceptable, Tevos tentatively left her bathroom. She opened the door more slowly than usual, compelled to politely give Aria a fair warning of her possible intrusion despite their past intimate encounters, and when she stepped back into her bedroom she kept her eyes down for the first two seconds before lifting them to locate Aria.

She found Aria on her bed, lounging comfortably against the soft white pillows that held her propped into a recline, with the sheets drawn up past her hips, and a hand hidden beneath them. Her eyes were tinted a familiar restless gray, but she was still, as if waiting for Tevos to leave so she could not intervene and possibly spoil Aria's ambitions of holding a friendly debt over her. Without any intention to intervene besides issuing a farewell, Tevos approached the bedside after being scrutinized by Aria's lust-clouded eyes during her short journey, and leaned down to press her lips to Aria's neck, to her pulse point. The caress was soft and tender when she initiated it, but as she lingered it hardened into a gesture far more reminiscent of Aria's treatment of Tevos's less-exposed stretches of flesh. She kissed her harshly enough to make Aria hiss aggressively in discomfort and grasp at the back of her dress's collar. But by the time she had pulled Tevos away retribution had been achieved, and when Aria realized this she appeared highly offended.

While she watched Aria lifting her fingers to brush over the new blemish, Tevos sweetly asked her, "Are you going to think about me?"

Frowning, Aria bitterly replied, "Just for that I might not."

Casting a final teasing glance over her shoulder at her, Tevos departed her bedroom and was soon en route to the Embassies, leaving Aria to her leisure and her eventual escape.

Held by the quality comforts of the councilor's sheets, Aria could still feel the dull throb of pain beneath her jaw, freshly radiating from Tevos's parting gift to her. It was destined to be noticeable. Perhaps not beyond the collar of her jacket, but certainly noticeable without its protective guard. Therefore Aria was torn between silently cursing Tevos and praising her for having the nerve, but after slipping a hand between her thighs and searching both her memory and imagination for a scenario to suit her mood, her thoughts still defaulted to Tevos without fail. She thought of the various ways in which Tevos might repay her supposed debt. A few struck a particularly delicious chord within her, and Aria shut her eyes and entertained herself with them until she found gratification, spending the aftermath luxuriating for several minutes against the backrest of pillows as if it were a second throne.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Councilor Tevos did not arrive at the Embassies early that morning, but neither did she arrive late. Arriving late was particularly unusual by her standards, and an event that she proudly advertised as occurring annually when she was at her very worst. She arrived right on time, greeted a concerned Eleni, received from her many updates that had accumulated over just the last half-hour, and retreated into her office without the smallest iota of vexation felt in reaction to the instant workload. Placidly she sorted through the items of interest, neatly categorizing them by importance before tending them efficiently, rationally, and saved those that could be left on her desk for several days in favor of addressing correspondences and official documents needing to be read and signed.

She hadn't been in a mood as marvelous as this for quite some time, and it easily surpassed the one she had brought to work with her on day following the first recent time she had slept with Aria. There was _some_ lingering discomfort in her body but it was easily ignored, transmuted into a pleasant, harmless reminder of what had occurred and what might await her in the future.

Maybe they could devote an evening to themselves someday, without having to reserve time for discussions of strategy or what gruesome fate had befallen another one of Aria's officers. Surely Aria would be amenable to idea. Aria was a creature who enjoyed indulging in luxuries just as much as she enjoyed procuring them, so it would not be so outrageous to consider asking her if someday she might like to share a bottle of wine with her, talk as two capable minds, and eventually end the night well with a trip to the bedroom... But that sounded _awfully_ like a date, Tevos realized. Would that be too personal for Aria to agree to, or did she even mind that component? Was Aria uncomfortable with the common formula that characterized a 'date', or did she only have an aversion to the concept of _officially_ dating by explicit confirmation from both parties? What if she didn't have an aversion to _officially_ dating at all in actuality, and Tevos had just misinterpreted her in haste as she was sometimes guilty of doing?

_I need only inquire_ , she told herself, but therein lied an even greater issue to trouble her. _But I can't simply ask her that... What if she says no? I'd be mortified. But... Goddess, what if she says_ yes? _Twice the mortification, without a doubt._

" _I'd_ feel uncomfortable with the idea of dating her," Tevos quietly admitted aloud. It was true. While she liked Aria quite a bit, and found herself longing for her company at certain times, she knew distinctly where a line needed to be drawn. No matter what they decided to do with each other, even if they placed themselves in situations that could possibly be interpreted as romantic by another's criteria, the line could not be crossed for both their sake's. For their sanity, their reputations, their livelihoods... Tevos could provide infinite reasons.

But it didn't take away from the fact that Aria _did_ mean something to her. She was an experience with no substitute, almost an adventure entirely on her own. She made her days so very exciting and exposed her to innumerable new things, caused her to question herself and develop her own convictions, sometimes altering them, and sometimes strengthening them. Was that not the quintessential meaning and purpose of life, as defined by prominent asari philosophers? To acquire perception along with knowledge, to see as others see, to complete oneself by engaging one's reciprocal natures? She could appreciate Aria, greatly. And she did.

And although Tevos banned herself from thinking about dating Aria, she had not self-imposed any restrictions on wondering _how_ Aria had dated, as a maiden still stranded on Thessia. She must have dated when she was younger. Many asari did, albeit while confined to their homeworld it was a practice only accepted when strictly casual, given the demographics of Thessia. On a world teeming with other asari and a modern culture that prioritized breeding outside one's race, first sexual explorations commonly occurred in asari-asari pairs (or... trios), but mothers were always ever-vigilant of their daughters' language when referencing these supposed 'friends', and always steeling themselves for that day when they might have to sit their daughters down and explain to them that their attractions were not worth being ostracized over. Still, Tevos remembered countless acquaintances who had defiantly claimed to be in love with these exploratory partners. She had never doubted the truth of their words. She had only doubted their ability to last.

Not unlike them, Tevos also recalled a handful of relationships she had entered with other asari, long, long ago. All doomed, all real, all secretive, and all too painful to dwell on for lengthy amounts of time. Quickly, she distracted herself by turning her thoughts back to Aria instead of herself, imagining her in a similar predicament.

A scene was painted by Tevos's mind, briefly: the indomitable Aria T'Loak reduced to a maiden with some cute girl on her arm, who demanded her affection while they frequented shopping malls to indulge in the flamboyant fashion trends of the day, experimented with drugs, took barbed-wired bats to the knees of rival street gang members, or whatever it was that the young Aria did in recreation.

Well into the morning, Tevos received a message at her private terminal, marked with a brightly-colored tag to indicate the sender was another councilor.

.

TO: CLR. TEVOS N'VANI  
FROM: CLR. KYLRIS ESTULIUS  
SUBJECT: An apology is in order.

Good morning, Councilor. I'm sure you recall our conference a few days ago, as well as my outburst. Following that incident I have been reviewing what was said on all sides, and I have recently arrived at the conclusion that it was not you, but myself, who had been wrong about the issue discussed. Therefore I would like to sincerely apologize for my words and any behavior that might have inconvenienced you lately. This was not easy to admit to myself. I confess that I am quite passionate about the particular subject matter, having somewhat of a personal past experience that may have influenced my opinion.

If you have the time, I would very much like to discuss this in person with you in my office, though I would put you in no obligation to answer my request. I merely wish to make amends, as I place the functionality of this Council, as well as the fairness of its constituents, upon the highest tier of importance.

—K. Estulius

.

The message was a perplexing but pleasant surprise. To see Councilor Estulius's adamancy give way to a concession, even when Tevos had acknowledged herself that his anger was not entirely misplaced, was unusual indeed. Tevos wondered what it was that had made him rescind his opinion on the project she and her government kept to themselves (although, as Tevos was aware, another division at that existed between herself and Asari High Command, but none of the councilors needed to know about their lack of unity on the matter).

She hadn't expected him to apologize. It was the last thing she would have expected. Rather, Tevos had previously accepted the more plausible condition of retaining her silence as to not aggravate his anger and simply wait out the storm patiently.

Possessed by curiosity, she checked her agenda, made a call to Eleni to reschedule her two first appointments to time slots later on in the day, and left her office to travel to Estulius's. The journey to the turian embassy was a relatively short walk, and continuing on to Estulius's office required the ascent of a few floors before she found herself emerging into the small antechamber monitored by the turian councilor's attaché at a desk much like Eleni's. Upon seeing her he quickly closed the window of his omni-tool, which had been opened to a game, and respectfully greeted her before asking if she wanted an audience with Estulius. He alerted the turian councilor of Tevos's arrival upon her confirmation and politely let her through to his office.

She found Estulius already rising from his desk to greet her.

"Councilor, I am very grateful that you have spared me some time to hear my explanation," he said to her. "I must say I expected you to be too cross with me."

"I can't say I've ever been one to particularly hold grudges," Tevos replied, folding her hands behind her back and taking a few meandering strides into his well-lit office to assess the surroundings she rarely viewed. "And, my own curiosities certainly helped persuade me to come."

"Ah, yes. My message was a bit sudden, I should think."

"It was. Where did it come from, if I may ask?"

He gestured candidly to her. "Your reasoning, Councilor. I reviewed the archived record of our conference and I realized that I was in no position to make judgments on asari foreign policy, so to speak." Estulius cleared his throat, preparing his elaboration. "You see, Tevos, you recall my past service in the turian military? Well, it is perhaps now appropriate to reveal to you that my platoon, combined with several others, once formed a special unit posted in various regions of Attican Space, re-positioned frequently. The operation we were once part of has long been abandoned, but in essence it was once meant to be a turian answer to the salarian STG. Our purpose was, fundamentally, to observe pirate fleets from the Terminus Systems and apprehend whether they were worth engaging. I cannot go into detail, I'm sure you understand, but the missions I partook in years ago left a _profound_ effect on me. I do not kindly welcome the aid of Terminus warlords, Councilor Tevos, even if temporary concord is required to support your investigation into our Spectre's death. I realize it is of utmost importance and a matter of galactic security, I truly do. I only wish that it need not be facilitated by the likes of Aria T'Loak."

"I see," Tevos said in comprehension. "Well, I hope it will be of some consolation to you to know that I too am not terribly fond of working through another officiating power, and especially one without a legitimate government to consult for legal agreements and documentation of our conjoined efforts. Paperless promises are all I have at this point and I frequently find myself in the difficult position of having to trust them."

He appeared pleased. "I'm glad to hear that. Not glad to hear of your difficulties, of course, but glad to hear of your discretion. I will never in my life be able to replicate the immense tact it must have taken you to reduce hostility to the point of tentative cooperation, and for that perhaps I need to take a step back. You are a clever woman, Councilor. If anyone is capable of diplomacy that pacifies Terminus Space criminals, it is you."

She smiled faintly as his flattery. "I should certainly hope so, Councilor." As she leisurely paced about, deeply in thought, Tevos's attention was drawn to one of Estulius's shelves. Upon the lowest were a few picture frames, slowly cycling through images of what Tevos presumed to be family and friends. She approached them, relying on implied permission to do so from them being plainly on display.

She beheld the first frame—currently displaying a portrait of two young turian boys who had yet to grow the long crest extension of their forehead plating. One was clearly the elder, but only by a few years, Tevos guessed. They were seated on chairs placed upon beach sand, both smiling widely with the ocean well beyond them. The location was more than likely a beach on a predominantly turian world, given the conspicuous absence of swimmers in the background. The image soon morphed into another; the same boys again, identified by the symmetry of their facial structure and their eyes, yet years older than previously depicted. This time they were in a garden of tall succulents enveloped in thick silvery cuticles while blooming with brilliantly red flowers, and the elder boy had his arm around the waist of a female turian roughly his own age.

"My two sons," Estulius proudly clarified after approaching her. He waited for the next image to appear—this one a family portrait taken recently, picturing Estulius along with his wife, his sons, and their own spouses. Standing only as tall as the eldest son's hip and holding both her parents' hands was a young girl, who Tevos suspected was Estulius's first grandchild.

"You have a beautiful family, Estulius," Tevos complimented him.

"Thank you," he said with a smile. "They mean the universe to me."

_So many families have come to my attention lately,_ Tevos mused with some wryness. _All of them well-developed and priceless to their founders, I'm sure. I do feel some envy, if only for the security and comfort close family can provide, if all members mesh well enough. But I suppose I can tolerate being the estranged, cold aunt for a while longer..._

Her focus drifted to another frame, which contained photos from an entirely separately area of Estulius's life. The first Tevos viewed was of a remarkably young Estulius—dashing, confident, and already the owner of a charismatic smile—seated in the opened cockpit of a small turian fighter, and holding up a hand in a gesture of approval with the Trebian sun rising in the distance. It was a very artful shot, she thought, perhaps in commemoration of a successful test flight, or possibly Estulius's first. The next was of multiple male turians, all dressed in Palaven military fatigues emblazoned with the same platoon number. They were standing in patent camaraderie, making their youthful bravado known to whomever they were sending the image to. Estulius was at their center.

"Was this your platoon?" Tevos asked him.

"Yes," Estulius answered, reaching out to tap the screen and consequently pause the slideshow. "See—there's Falteus Drusarius, second from the far left. He told me that he's made your acquaintance. I assure you, one would be hard-pressed to find better company. Or a better turian biotic."

She diverted her eyes to the indicated turian, and found Estulius correct. "He's a biotic?" Tevos asked, intrigued. Though without the scars that distinguished his facial carapace in the present day, Falteus as a young man still carried a bearing of moderation and dignity, with his eyes promising tales, questions, and sophisticated opinions, even if the portrait predated their inception.

"The most talented in our unit," Estulius said. "The structure of our platoon was unconventional to suit our missions. Turians generally don't mix traditional soldiers with biotics, so we were often considered experimental."

Estulius went on to introduce each of them to Tevos. "On the far left is Drialan Gallin. He... lost his left arm and eye during a skirmish approximately one year after this portrait was taken. Pirates. He lived and received prosthetics, but he couldn't return to service. I haven't heard from him in years. There's our commander, at my right. Vilnis Liska. Sharpest officer I ever served under. He perished in the skirmish that maimed Gallin, Spirits guide him. Then there's Marus Visiom; he was our second biotic. Could aim a gun just as well as any soldier, however. He wasn't as skilled as Falteus was in biotic combat, but he made up for it in well-roundedness. In a one-on-one with him, I think he would've been able to take down our best _captains,_ not to mention he devised some of the best battle strategies I can remember ever witnessing, all thwarting pirates with ease. Like Gallin, I haven't heard from him in almost twenty years."

He continued, now chatting garrulously about members of his platoon he still spoke to on regular occasion. Unfortunately, Tevos's focus could not be brought to the task of memorizing their names nor significance to her fellow councilor. She was fixated on but one name, echoing throughout her mind in uncanny familiarity: _Visiom_.

_Visiom,_ Tevos repeated yet again in the privacy of her thoughts. _Visiom. Where have I heard that name?_

The question plagued her during the return trip to her office. When she arrived, she found a most welcomed message blinking in the face of her terminal, providing her yet another reason to deem the day a fantastic one:

.

TO: [REDACTED]  
FROM: [REDACTED]  
SUBJECT: No subject

Madam Councilor, our mission has been completed. Five minutes ago the pertinent files were leaked to a single random agent, who will likely be promoted shortly after discovering them and reporting the information to a superior. Our ally will have her target's location within minutes of this message's arrival.

We will continue to monitor the situation.

S.


	23. Blood Runs Through Tuhi

The shuttle gradually slowed as it approached the bay, the drone of its engine whirring lightly during the descent. Beyond the windows Liselle saw no less than twenty denizens of various races queuing for the shuttle Liselle was about to depart, and upon seeing their transportation arrive from the rusty skies, most had crossed the bright yellow band of light marking the area in which the shuttle would land, and rushed to the edge of the platform to receive the vessel without the slightest heed of danger. After nearly landing on their feet the shuttle quieted to a steady hum and opened its doors with a rolling hiss.

Liselle was spared less than two seconds to disembark. As she was unable to complete that task within the meager allotted time, the next wave of passengers seized and ripped her from the entryway, throwing her into a several-stride stumble while they frantically poured into the shuttle, three at once despite the doorway having been designed to accommodate just two abreast at most. Recovering from her inelegant arrival, Liselle beheld the spectacle with a mild expression of stupefaction etched in her features, until the shuttle's doors automatically closed again after the passenger load reached the maximum weight deemed safe to carry by its computer. Five unfortunates were left behind to curse at the machine as it rose away from the platform and disappeared among the towers.

When Liselle turned to face the direction in which these people had hailed from, she understood their frenetic haste.

Buildings burned against the horizon, and the flames they expelled were not those of industry. They were wild, twisting wrathfully, and birthing plumes of thick, black smoke and flecks of hot orange ash that flitted by in the dreary atmosphere. They were fires of war. A charnel scent was on the windless air—blood, gunfire, and defunct utilities.

Tremulously, Liselle lifted a hand to access her omni-tool and ascertain her position within the district. She had saved Samesia Trakas's address before arriving in Tuhi; it now blinked on the face of her map, roughly five kilometers from her current location. It was a bit of a walk, and a climb when factoring in some of the more confusing avenues that constituted Omega, but it was certainly a fathomable trek and well within her capabilities. Liselle set off immediately, heading toward the blazing vista, but not without first silencing all incoming messages to her omni-tool.

The longer Liselle journeyed into the eerily quiet streets, the more evidence of tragedy she witnessed. Sepulchral storefronts with inactive barriers and shattered glass windows, darkened art deco neon signs that had once radiantly lit up graphics advertising countless goods, from minimalistic depictions of martini glasses to more famous fashion brands known throughout the Terminus Systems and perhaps far beyond. One was a kiosk once selling an exotic and highly expensive brand of perfume that Liselle's mother liked to wear.

This had once been the commercial pride of Tuhi, bustling with economic activity every hour of the day. And now it was deserted. Nothing remained but husks—luxury skycars lying in the middle of the street, stripped of their valuable parts and doomed to never fly again; blackening blood stains smeared across sidewalks, causing Liselle to shudder at her imagination's suggestions as to how they got there; and on one occasion, Liselle gaped in horror at the sight of a rotting body strung up by a black electric chord wrapped around its neck, hung from a sign extending high over the street. The armor still clinging to the putrefying corpse was painted in the colors and emblems of a gang Liselle did not recognize, but the writing sprayed near the body, upon the wall of the thoroughly-looted store from which the sign extended, read redundantly in both asari and batarian script: _Death to enemies of our Queen._

She hurried along, shaken by the gruesome warning but not without feeling morbidly comforted by the fact that Aria's forces had likely secured the area, and the danger of encountering hostile factions was minimal. Looters and opportunists remained a danger, however, inspiring her to make haste and keep silent as she traveled on.

It was not long before Liselle happened upon the forces that had conquered this sector of the Tuhi District. Aria's faithful mercenaries had erected a barricade which denied entry into the commercial plazas to traffic from the residential blocs, effectively zoning areas of operation for their own convenience. Liselle had no other choice but to approach when recognizing that if she altered her route to Samesia, her course would dangerously swing far out and into territories crawling with desperately warring gangs.

A turian posted at the barricade approached Liselle before she could even apply the final polish to the story she intended to use in bypassing them. He retrieved an assault rifle from his back and kept it lowered due to Liselle's visible lack of hostility, but remained consistently wary of the lone girl until her intentions and loyalties were descried.

"Stop right there," he ordered her as she reached the barricade—a tall makeshift wall fashioned from the abundance of debris resulting from the many conflicts of Tuhi, albeit well-made with the mark of professionals visible in its organized integrity, complete with a humming force field for additional defense. Liselle stopped as directed.

"No one gets in or out right now," the mercenary told her, only pausing to yield to the rise in sound originating from a gunship roaring by overhead, headed in the direction Liselle was determined to follow in. "Some of the residential zones are lit up and we can't have anyone wandering in and out and disrupting our fortification. Go ahead and just turn back, or go the long way around."

"I'm here on official business," Liselle lied, finding the exercise a bit easier each time she did it. "I belong to one of Aria's infiltration units and my mission brought me here. I need to pass to complete my objective." She held out her arm containing the microchip upon which her omni-tool programs were downloaded, as well as her identification files, to allow the armed mercenary to perform a quick scan.

After accessing the relevant information and verifying her identity and authorizations, the turian curiously inquired, "Isn't it a bit risky, to be wandering around Tuhi alone?"

"I can't talk about my mission," she answered. "It's... classified. But if there's a problem with that I'm sure Aria's taking complaints." Just as Liselle had planned, he acquiesced. Invoking Aria's name always seemed to produce swift results, and Liselle didn't plan on removing that weapon of persuasion from her arsenal anytime soon.

"All right, all right," he said while lifting a hand to illustrate his compliance. He returned his weapon to his back. "You're going to need permission from the Lieutenant if you want to be let through. Follow me."

Along the barricade Liselle was led, passing a multitude of other mercenaries posted on alert, weapons brandished and cradled against their chests in anticipation of sudden assaults. Others were congregating at terminals, constantly transmitting information and radioing forces currently engaging factions in skirmishes scattered all over the district. Past a multitude of crates whose contents were marked as provisions and ammunition, seemingly in equal proportion, was a secluded alcove against the barricade where a portable table had been opened with its accompanying chair, supporting an ashtray with the dying remnants of a cigarette abandoned in its shallow grave, and one Lieutenant Dissia T'Masi enjoying a short reprieve from her campaign. She was an asari of a deep plum complexion and particularly frightening aesthetic preferences for her armor, decorated in studs and spines jutting from the shoulders, knees, and wrist guards, though symmetrical and orderly arranged. And she was, by far, Aria's most intimidating lieutenant, and well-groomed for war. Liselle suspected that if Wasea had actually decided to join her administration, the two would've had to viciously and mercilessly compete for the title.

"Lieutenant," the turian saluted her. "One of Aria's special operatives is requesting permission to be allowed past our fortification."

Dissia regarded him without surprise or alarm. Calm and calculating, she ran a speculative eye over Liselle, assessing her stature and the implications of her solitude.

"Did you check her ID?" Dissia asked the mercenary, never conceding to them a change in her stony expression.

"Yes ma'am," he said. "Everything's in order."

She shifted her legs for comfort, extending them beneath the table without ever looking away from Liselle. "Where's the rest of your unit, operative? Aria's unit sizes vary but she never sends anyone out on their lonesome."

Liselle cautiously proceeded, knowing very well that Aria's lieutenants were not so easily fooled. "The mission my unit is on required us to split up due to some unforeseen circumstances. We're each pursuing a lead right now and it personally led me into Tuhi—I wish I could tell you more, but you'd need to ask Aria for clearance and I'm not sure either of us has time for that."

Still observing her relentlessly, Dissia began tapping her fingertips on the table, slowly making her judgement. "She has all the authorizations," she mused aloud, "and I'm assuming she hasn't touched anything around here." Dissia finally averted her gaze to her mercenary, who confirmed that he had been watching her the entire time. "After what happened with _bumbling Renaga_ , I wouldn't want to be the next one to fuck up something important to Aria. I can't say I have much of a choice. All right. Let her through. I'll put out a call to disable the field for about twenty seconds. Also—a word of advice, operative, before you head out there. Get in, and get out. You really don't want to hang around for too long. We've got the Blood Pack to worry about out here, not to mention the other smaller factions, and we've been sending our numbers into sorties all day. Remember: _get in, get out_."

The maiden nodded in dire understanding.

When she stood before the barricade's funnel of an entrance she waited for the blue field to blink away. Mercenaries atop the walls of the fortification watched her vigilantly as the field temporarily deactivated and let her pass, holding their guns and keeping the girl within their sights until the transparent blue flickered back on, humming anew, and ceased wavering as it was brought back up to full power again.

The abandoned storefronts quickly melted into apartment complexes, wedged closely together for compact living space and stretching on in every direction as a dizzying maze of walls with nearly identical faces. After a wrong turn that set her back almost a half hour, Liselle was forced to carefully monitor her progress from street to street, keeping her omni-tool constantly accessible and displaying her current location in comparison with her destination. At one point Liselle spotted a dented, headlight-less skycar parked haphazardly across the entrance to an alleyway, which she carefully illuminated with the orange glow perpetuated upon her wrist to check if anyone else was present. After deeming the situation safe Liselle began scouring the crimson-painted vehicle, checking the doors and using Rasma's cutting-edge hacking program to open them without resorting to force. The skycar's computer switched on without fault, to her delight, but when she attempted to start the engine, a red message blinked on in the control interface to alert her to the absence of power cells. To her great dismay, upon lifting the hood of the skycar Liselle found the mechanical components stripped bare.

She dejectedly left the sporty skycar behind. All was quiet for a time; Liselle only encountered a small group of denizens running in the opposite direction, perhaps having found the opportunity to leave the district, and on another occasion she briefly crossed paths with some of Aria's forces moving through, appearing battle-weary and burdened with several wounded, but too busy to acknowledge Liselle beyond registering that she was not a threat. They, on the other hand, climbed into their arriving transportation in an orderly fashion and ascended away, soaring by overhead. A crash was heard, tearing Liselle's attention away from the departing caravan and to the sight of four looters fleeing from an apartment's lobby, their arms full of goods and spilling some of their more compact devices in their haste.

The Tuhi District was in abject disarray. Liselle could hardly see how Aria was always able to resuscitate the districts she annexed. There must have been immense amounts of precise logistical planning, organization of contacts, and distribution of funds to support such booming revivals. But her mother was ever the businesswoman—a paragon of traditional asari power that held the trinity of economic, political, and military might in supreme balance.

Liselle climbed her way up to a plaza to gain a semblance of a vantage point in search of shortcuts, but instantly regretted her decision when a heavy boom rippled through the air, originating below and away from her on a lower tier. The sound reverberated through her chest, sending her heart frantically pounding against her ribs as she dropped to the ground and crawled on her knees and forearms toward the railed edge of the plaza. She peered at the violence and was introduced to a scene of intense combat, where Dissia's forces were tearing through the lines of a faction bearing black emblems on their chest plates. They were gaining ground at a prodigious pace, sending one enemy down after another under their relentless attrition of gunfire, grenades, and the unleashing of their robust biotic vanguards. Liselle could hear their chaos-fueled roars of battle from her position, an invigorating sound to the ears of their allies, while absolutely harrowing to their foes. If they had not already been controlling the battle well enough, Liselle spotted the same gunship she saw earlier, identified by the familiar numbers painted on its side, hovering over the sortie and occasionally delivering sprays of heavy, rapid gunfire into the enemy lines.

Such was the style of warfare Aria espoused and taught to her officers—intense charges of unremitting force spent pounding enemies into fine detritus and leaving in their wake trails of fiery ruin, all while never granting their foes a single moment for recovery. It was brutal, it was swift, and it was overwhelming. Whenever Aria had left intelligence wars behind to fight physical ones, not even the Blood Pack matched her aggressive tactics, nor could they ever hope to aspire to replicate the control and accuracy she maintained over these assaults.

Originally, Liselle had paused to quickly devise a new route circumventing the violence without sacrificing too much time, but her planning was abruptly interrupted when a bright tail of white smoke flew from between two spires, and achieved a direct hit against the gunship. A red, hot explosion burst into existence with a boom, shattering the ship's shields instantly as the force of the impact sent it careening in a wavering decline before the pilot managed to regain control. From the origin of the attack between the spires an enemy contender emerged; a gunship of rival fortitude and firepower, looming toward their position before firing another missile.

Liselle was wise to have fled from her position. As the missile left the enemy's ship, Dissia's pilot released several decoy flares while resorting to evasive maneuvers. The missile's path bent in attraction to the countermeasures, leading it to the railing at which Liselle had been observing just seconds before. It engulfed a considerable radius in a cloud of searing fire as she scrambled away, retreating back into the center of the plaza, past its planters filled with fake ferns, and to the opposite side where she vaulted herself over the rail guard and landed on another pathway.

Behind her, the dueling gunships had migrated into the open plaza, exchanging gunfire and rockets. She ducked instinctively when she heard a metallic hail of bullets ricocheting off the rail just above her head, and rounded the corner of an apartment complex as another boom of a missile's impact rattled the structure ominously, traveling up her feet and throwing her into a brief, faltering stumble.

She did not stop running until she had spotted a damaged grating covering the entrance to a sewer system. The culvert seemed dry for the compromised utilities in the area, and instead served as a bed for piles of trash. Liselle looked beyond that unsavory detail to keep her focus upon the round plate of grating, its metal ripped and peeled open enough for her to crawl into for shelter until the battle subsided.

Liselle slid down the declivity of the culvert on the sides of her soles to slow her descent, but the smoothness of the slope had her accelerating as she neared the bottom. After tripping she roughly tumbled the rest of the way down, only caught by the heap of unsorted garbage that scraped at her commando leathers and bare hands upon arrival. She unceremoniously picked herself up from the debris, quickly assessing herself in fear of being punctured by any stray syringes or other causes for alarm. Aside from several scrapes, bruises and negligible slashes in her attire that would require expert mending to seal, Liselle emerged without injury and retreated into the grating's aperture—a space much larger than she originally perceived—and thrust her body into the darkness as the gunships drifted and boomed behind her.

When she finally reached relative safety Liselle allowed herself to drop to her knees, panting and shaking from her brush with death, until a harsh white light shone upon her face, blinding her momentarily and causing her to raise a hand to shield her eyes.

"Would you look at that, boys?" she heard a deep, rumbling voice say with a cadence of twisted amusement. "We have another house guest."

After adjusting to the light the outline of a krogan became visible, as well as the more willowy and wretched silhouettes of three vorcha excitedly peering around his girth to see who—and what—their visitor was. Then Liselle saw the red. The deep maroon armor, adorned with crude images of skulls in white paint, was instantly recognizable.

Liselle pushed herself to her feet, but was acquainted with the barrel of a massive shotgun leveled at her chest. Her hands raised in terrified surrender.

"A little asari," the krogan observed. "Trembling, alone, and lost, looks like. But you see, we Blood Pack can easily fix that. We're perfectly happy to open up our temporary bunker here to those _poor people_ stuck outside in the rain." He gave a low, rough chuckle, and accompanied it with a wide smirk that crawled across his war-torn features. His vorcha allies jeered amongst themselves in agreement. "But, everyone knows you can't run a household without paying the bills, and everyone needs to pitch in from time to time. Don't you think those are fair terms, little asari?"

Liselle's voice audibly quivered as she squeaked, "Yeah, sounds good."

"So..." He pressed the shotgun beneath her jaw, angling it upward in the direction of her skull. "How much are you willing to contribute to Salamul's funds?"

"H-How much do you want?"

"Hmm..." Salamul withdrew into consideration. "How about three hundred credits? What do you think, boys? Does that seem fair to you?"

" _Four_ hundred," one of the vorcha eagerly hissed.

"Four hundred sounds good," said the krogan. "How about it, asari? Do we have a deal?"

The amount would've easily bankrupted anyone below the poverty line on Omega, Liselle knew. She recognized his tactics. Zuria had once warned her long ago about Omegan extortionists; how they would demand an exorbitant starting fee just to test how affluent their victim was. From there they would lower the price if the victim claimed they could not pay, but if Liselle agreed to their terms immediately, they would see her wealth and might try doubling or tripling the fee, or even taking her for ransom, especially while they had the advantage of holding her at gunpoint.

"Please, I don't have four hundred," she lied. "I can only do two-fifty right now."

"Oh really?" Salamul dubiously inquired. "Then just where did _that_ come from?" His eyes dropped to the submachine gun at her hip, greedily coveting the new model.

"I s-stole it. Looted it."

"I'll tell you what, little asari. Hand it over and you can pass. Or I'll just take it for myself the _hard way._ "

"Go ahead," Liselle said in a panic, eager to rip it away from her waist. "Take it, take it...!"

Salamul was happy to do so. He lowered his shotgun and let Liselle pass while he admired the firearm, eliciting envious snarls from the vorcha who did not receive a cut of the profits made from that particular shake-down. Although Liselle had escaped with her life, a sting of misery tugged at her heart at the loss of her expensive firearm, pristine, never used, and specially bought for her by Aria—the very first gun she had _ever_ bought her, coincidentally, as the spare pistol she carried had once been handed to her by Zuria. Aria had always given her daughter almost anything she requested; the best omni-tool programs, designer dresses in answer to a phase Liselle went through when she was younger and spent hours admiring them on extranet sites, almost unlimited funds for the purchasing of e-books and entertainment...

But _gifts_ were sacred. Things Liselle hasn't asked for, things that provided some insight into Aria's consciousness of Liselle, to _prove_ that she truly considered what she might like instead of relying upon her explicit requests. Gifts were evidence that a relationship's existed between them, even when they arrived in the form of a firearm. It made Liselle want to clasp her hands over her face and shout, maybe sob, but she was too shaken by recent events to spare herself the time.

She wandered further into the network of drainage pipes, moving through the Blood Pack's pathetic 'bunker' as they waited for the storm above their heads to blow over. Most of their mercenaries were standing uselessly around, or setting up lights mounted on tripods to keep the areas illuminated. Sometimes they flickered incessantly. Liselle kept her head down, not wanting to meet the eyes of anyone with skulls painted on their armor, nor those who were cruel and disturbed enough to have strapped _real_ ones to their shoulder or chest plates. After cautiously passing by a kennel filled with restless varren, while some snapped, lunged, and snarled at her from the ends of their short chains nailed precariously into the metal walls of the corrugated pipe, Liselle rounded a corner and beheld the sight of other refugees. They looked dismal, sitting and standing against the walls and away from the stagnant rivers of grime and sludge that stained the pipes. Liselle suspected that they too had hoped to find the sewers fit for shelter, only to have been robbed by the Blood Pack. Having already surrendered their money and valuables as payment, many lingered from having no other choice while the battle raged above their heads, muffled but never muted.

Finding herself in a similar situation, at least until she could find a safe escape from the pipes and plot a new course to her destination in her omni-tool, Liselle decided to stay a while.

During her search for somewhere relatively clean to settle down and rest, Liselle noticed a vorcha heading in her direction. His eyes were upon her, but he was not wearing Blood Pack colors. She eyed him warily as he drew near, expecting them to pass one another without incident, but when he called out to her suddenly, "Hey, asari!" Liselle's hand darted to her lone pistol and removed it from her belt. She did not raise it, but she kept it firmly in hand as a silent threat.

"Whoah, whoah!" The vorcha exclaimed, lifting his hands in an attempt to pacify her. "Ask question! _Question!_ Talk, not fight. Asari like talking, right?"

She made no move, unsure what to think of him.

"Need water, friend is sick," said the vorcha. "You have water?" Seeing Liselle's lingering suspicion, he paused to think of a solution. He stepped out from the center of the tunnel to one side, gesturing emphatically in the direction from whence he came, at the many refugees. "See? Her!"

Liselle's gaze followed the indicated direction. At first she did not know who among the many faces to rest her eyes upon, but one anomaly caught her attention and made the target clear. Many meters away, on the floor of the tunnel and lying upon a gray, torn blanket was an asari. She was convulsing, thrashing; her body having succumbed to silent spasms in the throes of what Liselle identified as a seizure. Concern flooded her immediately, but she kept her guard intact, ever-suspicious of treachery.

"What's wrong with her?" she prudently asked.

"Sick!" answered the vorcha. "Very sick! Please, we can give this!" From a small satchel fastened to his waist he produced a stunning necklace encrusted with red gems. "We trade, yes?"

While she kept her pistol out, Liselle decided to hazard an approach. The vorcha led her to his ailing friend, who was accompanied by a large krogan with a blue-hued crest seated beside her, monitoring her throughout her episode. He leered at Liselle when she approached and did not spare her a greeting. They were situated in an small alcove of the piping, ending in a sturdy, intact grating which granted a sweeping view of the burning Tuhi skyline beyond its bars. The asari's movements dwindled gradually as they watched her flail at their feet. Liselle had never personally seen the effects of a such an illness in her life, and her heart twisted in empathy and shame for not possessing any knowledge of what might alleviate her condition. All they could do was helplessly look on and prevent her from causing injury to herself if required.

At last the asari regained lucidity, now lying on the ground in a daze as she registered her surroundings and the faces observing her. Two were familiar, and one was completely foreign to her.

Liselle retrieved a canister of water from her pack, handing it over to the vorcha, who in turn tried to place the offered jewels in her hand. She refused it. Without argument he turned away from Liselle and knelt down, helped prop up his asari companion, and presented her the water. "Water, from her!" he said, motioning to Liselle. He aided the asari in drinking from it.

Weakly and with a lasting mist veiling her eyes, the asari regarded Liselle. "Thank you," she hoarsely said, then turned to the krogan. "Burgek, can you get me... get me the vial."

The one called Burgek heeded her request, retrieving a mysterious kit from their collective belongings and placing in the lightly-shaking hands of the asari. She opened it, revealing its contents to consist of a vial filled with a translucent substance subtly tinted green, and a packet of needles kept sterile in individual, sealed compartments. She tore open one of the compartments, retrieved the needle, fitted it securely in the vial, and pushed the fabric of her sleeve past her elbow. In the bend of her joint, Liselle saw a deeply violet bruise placed directly upon her artery.

"You sure?" the vorcha asked her.

"I've gone too long without a dose," she said. The asari waited until her hands were steady before self-administering, but she stopped after only depleting a small portion of the liquid and removed the needle from her arm. She began rolling down her sleeve. "There, I think that'll hold me for a while. At least until we can cash in."

Tentatively, Liselle asked her, "What do you have?"

She afforded Liselle an answer in return for her act of kindness. "Ahok fascitis," she said mirthlessly, returning her equipment to its case. "It's terminal. It's always terminal. So I used to see this doctor, Kiava Vathesa. She gave me this kit here—I don't know what's in it, exactly, but it helped with the seizures. She said if I keep taking it I could live maybe a hundred more years. Those are the best odds anyone's ever given me. And she gave it to me for free, can you believe that?" She smiled, giving an incredulous laugh. " _Free_. I was due to see her for another month's supply tomorrow, but... she's dead now. And I'm just trying to make what I've got left last as long as I can."

Liselle's heart sank. _Holy shit_ , she thought in genuine despair. _Vathesa must have had so many other patients we never even heard about..._

"I'm Kinara," the asari told her, reaching up to take Liselle's hand in her own to exchange a proper greeting. "Don't worry, it's not contagious. Anyway... You've already met Srask there. And this is Burgek. He doesn't speak much."

"Liselle," she said in reciprocation, nodding to each of Kinara's companions. Another wave of remorse washed over her, inspiring her to offer, "Hey, are you hungry? I have some food with me."

"You'd do that?" Kinara asked her, stunned and confused by Liselle's intentions. She had only met them a few minutes ago, and stood to gain nothing from sparing strangers her provisions. "Why?"

Liselle stilled after shrugging her pack off her shoulder. The true reason was pure, undiluted _guilt_ for possibly contributing to the deaths of an unknown tally of people, but she resorted to merely answering with a wry smirk, "Because no one else will." She unfastened the latch on her pack, pulling it open to retrieve the leftovers she had gathered from the banquet, distributing them generously amongst her new acquaintances. They were moved and bewildered by the gesture.

"Batarian food, _blech!"_ Srask complained after he began shoveling his meal past rows of needle-like teeth. He withdrew his complaint after Kinara slammed her fist into his arm. "But we grateful, we eat," he said.

"So," Liselle began while she ate with them, "What did the Blood Pack take from you?"

"Two hundred credits a head," Kinara bitterly replied. "That was everything we had. I mean, besides the jewels. I'm just glad they didn't go through our things or they probably would've taken them too. How about you?"

Liselle exhaled in rage. "My submachine gun. New model and everything. It was worth at least five thousand."

Srask began choking at the projected number, while the other two stared at her in disbelief.

_"Five thousand?"_ Kinara repeated. "Holy fuck... where are you _from?_ "

"Gozu," Liselle said between bites. "I'm uh... I'm out here on important business."

"Gozu is Aria!" Srask sneered. "She's from Aria!"

Burgek kicked him, allowing Kinara to respond in his stead. "Gozu, huh? Vathesa was from Gozu, and she sure as hell wasn't from Aria. To be honest, Liselle, we're not too fond of any faction out there. But as of right now, I don't care much about where your allegiance lies. The way I see it, we owe you one. I would've preferred it if you took some of the jewels from Srask, but then again I'm glad you didn't... My cut of the money has to start going to my medication now and I'm not going to cut into these two's profits. You see, we're not your everyday looters or scavengers. We're professionals."

Liselle's intrigue almost morphed into amusement at the pride with which Kinara spoke. "Professionals?" she echoed.

"Completely. I'll tell you what we do. We get our hands on lists of active IDs, and we watch for the ones that go dark. Those people are either missing or dead, and you know what? Wherever they are, they aren't going to be needing some of their valuables back home. Sometimes we'll sweep up after the gang wars, checking out the dead and saving their home addresses. We're a regular cleaning service."

The maiden laughed at her phrasing. "That's why you came to Tuhi, right?"

"Easy pickings, or so we thought. It's a mess out here. We scored only a few stashes, and Aria's people—you know, the ones who _do_ tend to have money—don't like leaving their dead lying around for us to pick through. And we ended up here with the Blood Pack to worry about. Just _fuck me, Athame,_ right?"

After eating and almost depleting her provisions, Liselle found herself utterly exhausted from the day. She hadn't slept since before the parade, and she was already well into the hours she normally spent sleeping. Beside the grating she set her pack down and herself against it, using her own body as protection from those who would try robbing her while she rested. Liselle drew her pistol and held it to her chest, keeping her finger off the trigger but its barrel pointed to her left, ready for usage at all times. It was also fortunate that Kinara and her companions were also preparing to rest within the stub of tunneling, assigning someone to new to keep watch every few hours or so, and consequently making themselves another welcomed line of defense for Liselle.

Soon Liselle drifted off, her head resting against the grating and doomed to peel away with square impressions in her skin when she awakened.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Liselle awoke with a jolt, ripped from her dreams at the sound of shouting reverberating off the metal walls of the drainage pipes and filling every chamber. She scrambled to her feet at the disruption to find her new allies doing the same, then pulled on her pack before moving over to them with her pistol drawn, ready to investigate the source of the problem. Without needing to exchange words, Kinara and her companions followed suit, noticing other refugees peering out round the bends and sections of pipes in fearful curiosity.

A few long strides led Liselle to a four-way junction, where assemblages of refugees and Blood Pack stood at opposing ends and exchanged hostile words. She, along with many others, held back to observe.

"That's fucking right!" Salamul bellowed from where he stood at the head of his forces. He aimed his shotgun at the rugose ceiling of the tunnel and fired, making most jump in fright as a fine hail of dust and debris rained down from the damage. "Everyone hear that? Good. Listen up, street scum! The Blood Pack is collecting another round of fees for our continued services. Sleep tight? You owe that to us. Don't have bullets in your head from the wars? You owe that to us. So everyone start forming an orderly line and get your credit chits out. Two hundred a head!"

Liselle narrowed her eyes at the sight of her sleek submachine gun secured to his hip, momentarily distracted from the stand-off.

"Considerably frustrated," an elcor began, taking several steps toward Salamul from the parting ranks of refugees. "The Blood Pack have already seized most of our valuables and credits. How can you expect us to give you more?"

"This not charity!" A Blood Pack vorcha spat and snarled. "This a service for you! We be paid, or we kill the _shit_ out of you!"

"This doesn't look good," Liselle heard Kinara whisper from behind her. "Get ready to run."

The elcor was undeterred by the threat. "With seething anger; the Blood Pack are all fools for remaining in the Tuhi District this long. You too will soon be engulfed by the wars, and you'll regret ever wasting your time here."

The vorcha mercenary howled with rage, glancing to Salamul. " _Aaarg!_ Let me kill him!" He retrieved a firearm from its holster and pointed it at the elcor. "Let me kill him! It only take two shots in his beady eyes—!"

He never received permission. In a display of swiftness Liselle never previously thought his species capable of, the elcor suddenly rushed forward a half-stride, lifted a massive arm from the ground, and brought it down like a boulder upon the vorcha. With a visceral crunch the vorcha's skull was crushed between the fist and the base of the tunnel, popping and splintering open gruesomely in a splatter of blood and brain matter. At once the tunnels were engulfed in chaos—Salamul gave the order to attack, refugees drew arms to defend themselves, while many began fleeing the sudden eruption of gunfire, retreating deeper into the network of drainage pipes.

"Let's go!" Kinara said, bringing Liselle with them as they fled alongside the majority, losing themselves in the maze as the Blood Pack pursued them, spreading out in determination to claim their fees whether their clients were dead or alive. Gunshots rang out behind them while they ran, choosing paths at random that often doubled-back, finding themselves stepping over corpses of refugees and Blood Pack mercenaries alike.

Burgek lead the way, slamming himself like a battering ram into any mercenary blocking their path as Kinara biotically threw aside those who aimed their guns at them. Liselle leaped at the opportunity to help; enveloping herself in a shimmering blue veneer as she turned to a krogan coming at them from their left. With a burst of biotics she sent him flying violently backward and into a wall of grating. His body tore through it as if it were made of plywood, and the lasting momentum sent him plummeting down into unknown, darkened areas of the utility below their position.

_"Nice fucking throw!"_ Kinara complimented her, but her celebration was cut short by a wave of vorcha equipped with flamethrowers arriving from around the bend of a pipe. She shielded herself in a barrier to withstand the heat as she and Burgek engaged them, leaving Srask and Liselle to deal with a new threat approaching from behind.

A grinning vorcha had a growling bouquet prepared for them. Five varren at the end of chains were wrapped around his forearm for security, each snapping its jaws wildly and hungrily from not having been fed in days. It was either a wall of flame or the fanged maws of beasts, to choose from as their main adversaries. Srask immediately decided to join his fellows despite the likely risk of horrific burns. As for Liselle, she was not so comfortable with the idea of turning her back to a pack of starved varren.

In a burst of courage she sprinted forward at them, surprising the Blood Pack vorcha but not enough to stop him from letting the chains fly free. Using her biotics to augment her jump, Liselle vaulted herself over the creatures and slammed her arm into the vorcha's neck, bringing him down hard before she continued on. The varren altered course to pursue her, a moving target that stimulated their most basic instinct to hunt, to kill. She did not witness it, but one of the original five had stayed behind to take its fallen master's arm in its jaws and thrash until edible meat was shredded away from the bone. But Liselle heard the screams.

Terrified of meeting the same fate, Liselle fled in blind panic as the varren hunted her, their claws scraping along the metal floors and their chains whipping wildly about their necks. She ran as fast as she could, struck by a powerful and arresting surge of fear when she stumbled, but she carried herself forward, desperate to survive. A glance thrown over her shoulder yielded the sight of opened maws filled with rows of glistening teeth, and strings of saliva flying and breaking as they hounded their prey. One turned corner filled her chest with bleak horror.

A gate of grating barred her from further passage, resulting in a dead end with no escape. Still she ran toward it, sobbing in fright and dreading a violent, agonizing death, until a shrill whistle had the varren ending their hunt prematurely to retreat. Liselle staggered to the grating, hopelessly dropping to her knees before it and slipping her fingers through the bars and attempting to pry it loose in vain, with tears of terror rolling down her cheeks and shudders wracking her body. She turned around, at the mercy of the varrens' true master, and found none other than Salamul standing at the mouth of the tunnel section she was trapped within, leering at her with a wide, wicked grin as his war hounds sat down obediently at his feet.

"Little asari," he rumbled with interest, taking a few strides forward to better see where she was pitifully curled up against the grating, slipping and scraping the soles of her boots against grime and metal, trying to push herself away from him. "What a pleasant surprise to find you still alive. I was wondering when I'd find the time to feed my varren. You'd only suffice as an appetizer, of course, but who knows? Maybe my pets will bring back more shiny guns for me once they're done licking your bones clean."

Liselle drew her pistol and spitefully placed a round in the head of the varren nearest to her. It yelped pitifully, collapsed, and moved no more.

"You fucking little—!" Salamul snapped, his lips curling into a snarl. "It's feeding time!"

At his command the three remaining varren bounded forward, opening their jaws wide as if they were to swallow the girl whole.

They never arrived. Suddenly the pack was lifted into the air, sent swirling around as if caught in the middle of a hurricane with the eye as a dark, wavering sphere. A singularity. Liselle tightly clung to the grating as to not also be pulled into its field, when her legs began floating up and toward the lightless orb. Further on, Salamul's expression of bewilderment was obliterated when he turned to find another krogan barreling toward him, loudly cracking crests together as they collided. The Blood Pack mercenary was thrown from his feet by the brutal impact, leaving Burgek to triumphantly roar over his body and begin slamming his fists into his armor plating and exposed face.

Kinara appeared, as did Srask; each firing at the varren above their heads with firearms lifted from the dead, as per their usual mode of obtaining goods. With the varren disposed of the singularity faded, dropping the dead creatures and providing Kinara the opportunity to help Liselle to her feet, just in time to see Burgek backing off from Salamul at the return of the vorcha equipped with flamethrowers, wounded by their previous encounter, but far from incapacitated and appearing more than eager to back the four into a corner and watch their flesh blacken like bitumen.

Without hesitation Kinara tried to warp the grating. The metal groaned loudly under the pressure, but did not shatter. Burgek began slamming himself against its weakened integrity, denting and battering the gate to the outside world as the others fired rounds at the nearing vorcha, rendered useless when deflected by their shields. Through her barrier, as novice as it was, Liselle could feel the scorching heat beginning to crawl along her skin.

"Hit the tanks!" Kinara advised Liselle.

Heeding her advice, Liselle relied upon years of seemingly mindless target practice her mother prescribed her, aimed at one of the tanks connected to its corresponding flamethrower, and fired twice. The bullets bore holes in the canister just large enough to expel a jet of fuel into the air, and when it contacted a stray tongue of flame the vorcha instantaneously erupted into a blazing inferno, shrieking horribly as his allies fled his proximity. Liselle kept firing at them, intent on igniting more of their tanks until she saw a shadow rise from the floor, bloodied but largely uninjured. Salamul was on his feet again, barreling past the burning vorcha and toward them with a beastly roar of fury.

Burgek had breached the grating with a final tackle, almost stumbling forward and into a three-story plummet to the empty gully below them. Around his thick waist Kinara wrapped an arm, enveloping them in shimmering blue as they stood perched at the edge, and only paused to shout back at Liselle and Srask, "Jump, _jump!_ " True to her own words, Kinara leapt forward with Burgek, leaving Liselle responsible for performing the same feat with Srask in tow.

With a charging krogan upon them Liselle did not consider her lack of experience. It was a skill she had yet to master. She had spent time studying the way her mother and Zuria could survive drops of more than fifty meters with relative ease and propel themselves over unbelievable chasms when needed, but Liselle had thus far only managed a drop from a single story before the impact of landing would sting in her ankles. It was but the combination of a barrier and a modified throw or lift, she had been told. But her barriers had never been strong, and while her throws were already spectacularly powerful, they were essentially a quick explosion of biotic power that never lasted long enough, nor were they controlled enough, when repurposed for a fall's counterbalance.

Though trembling from the wanton death around her, she jumped from the pipe's mouth while Srask held onto her with his clawed fingers fearfully digging into her flesh, following the duo who had bravely taken the plunge before them. Just as the air began to whistle by their heads Liselle's ill-timed and ill-focused throw popped them back up into the air, enough to mitigate some of the accrued velocity but not enough to spare them a hard landing. They crumpled to the ground in a fit of pain and curses but without debilitating injury, though Srask snarled and complained about his arm, even as their companions helped them to their feet and continued their flight, further into the streets, and far away from the Blood Pack's reach.

By the time they stopped running, all four were nearly collapsing from exhaustion, panting heavily and hunched over with hands on their knees. Srask continued to swear while Kinara managed to expel a nervous, breathless laugh at their miraculous escape, and Liselle had fallen onto her side in enervated relief. During their few minutes of recovery, Liselle had noticed a shadow extending over her, and she lifted her head to find Burgek staring at her expectantly. The maiden rose into an upright sitting position, and her eyes widened upon realizing what he held in his hand, offering to her.

It was her submachine gun, just as pristine and iridescent, silvery blue as she remembered it.

"Holy _shit_ ," she breathed, reaching out to reclaim her weapon, admiring and appreciating it more than she ever had in the past. A broad smile broke out on her face, matching the humble one Burgek was currently displaying. "I can't believe you got it back! Thank you _so much!_ " Consumed by her surprise and delight, she threw her arms around the silent krogan, though her limbs were nowhere near long enough to encircle him.

Their celebratory mood could only last so long. At present, they were weary, without food, and without a plan. Liselle, being the daughter of the rich and infamous Aria T'Loak, probably had more money in her account than the sum total of all that had ever passed through the hands of her new allies, but with few available places at which she could spend it in the acquisition of provisions, her funds were suddenly without use. Even the vending machines dispensing artificial, low quality food products had been looted bare. Kinara suggested that they find a way out of the Tuhi District as soon as possible—Liselle, however, couldn't agree. Not after coming this far.

Needing their combined efforts for protection, Liselle attempted to enlist their aid in her mission to find Samesia Trakas. She truncated her story and changed its details, only saying that the reason she had come to Tuhi at all was to find this single asari, who possessed information very dear and personal to Liselle, and she offered to compensate them handsomely for accompanying Liselle to her destination. A thousand credits each, she said to their immense approval. Once Liselle began mentioning such numbers, the professional looters were more than eager to take on a job deviating from their normal work.

Without delay they began traversing the streets and alleyways toward Samesia's address, always carefully steering clear of the occasional distant firefight or larger group of people. No one impeded their progress, perhaps in fear of Burgek's intimidating presence, combined with the biotics of two asari and the unpredictability of a vorcha, as their archetypes served them. After much time spent walking with some devoted to talking, which Liselle tried to dodge at every chance, they at last came upon the area in which Samesia was presumed to reside.

Liselle's pace quickened as she climbed over abandoned skycars, following the blinking dot on her omni-tool while sending her eyes darting about the softy-glowing numbers differentiating each complex and compact home, and her companions lagged behind for not sharing her haste, but consistently remained within sight and earshot. The maiden could feel her heart thudding wildly in her chest. Some doors were unlocked, some red and shut as secure as vaults, alluding to a significant possibility that many residents had been able to safely remain; that, or they had taken measures against thieves and looters during their absence after fleeing the district. Countless scenarios plagued Liselle's mind, all clinging to the hope that Samesia was alive and well, while outright refusing to entertain the possibility that Liselle was too late and her arduous journey in vain.

She was nearly shaking in anxiety by the time her rushed jog slowed to a stop, placing her before the correct address, and before a broken door, mostly closed but slightly ajar, with the locking mechanism's display malfunctioning or altogether offline for displaying neither a green nor red indicator. Teetering dangerously on the verge of denial Liselle slipped her fingers in the opened space, and with the help of her biotics, shoved one half of the door into its slot in the wall and squeezed through the space. Kinara and Srask followed with ease, but Burgek was forced to pause and pry the door open wider to accommodate his broad form.

They emerged into the home, obviously ransacked with bits of broken glass and overturned furniture littering the floor. On a compulsion, Liselle's allies tentatively began sifting through the wreckage in search of any valuables left behind. Liselle might have tried preventing them if her mind and heart weren't slowly slipping into a distraught, hysterical panic.

"Food!" she heard Srask say.

Liselle's head whipped around to see Srask poking at an abandoned, half-eaten meal set upon a counter in the kitchen. She watched him smell it, and taste it.

"Stale," he reported, then pushed it away in aversion and redirected his attention to the minimal contents of the refrigerator.

"But not inedible," Kinara observed, meeting Liselle's widening eyes. "It can't be more than half a day old."

No more than a second was spent grasping the implications of the evidence. Liselle suddenly bolted to the stairs, scrambling and stumbling up them as fast as she could in a maddened dash for the bedrooms. Disoriented by unfamiliarity with the structure, Liselle resorted to frantically and systematically checking every room; a tiny study, a bathroom, a closet... At last she found the single bedroom, slamming her hand to the sensor pad and rushing inside.

Toward the far wall and on the floor, past the foot of a bed with several ugly creases corrupting the black and beige sheets once neatly fitted over its surface, was the sight of two legs, one folded atop the other, motionless, while clad in soft-material lounging clothes. Liselle sprinted over to the person, vaulting herself over the corner of the bed for speed, and dropped down beside the asari curled up on the floor in a pool of her own blood.

Nearly in tears, Liselle turned her over, cradling Samesia's head in the crook of her arm as she propped her limp body up and tried to determine whether she was alive. Past her wounds, her deathly pallor, and the circles of darkness beneath her eyes proclaiming serious ailment, she was found to be remarkably clinging to life.

Samesia was breathing weakly, suddenly shaken awake by the maiden manipulating her body. Liselle could see the initial fear in her eyes when she opened them. It was the utterly hopeless, desolate fear of one who knew they were completely and truly at the mercy of whatever cruel person had found her, and could only pray they would swiftly release her from her suffering rather than prolong it. She didn't know Samesia, but the expression broke Liselle's heart. But upon seeing the soft face of a maiden gazing down at her, with childlike tears welling in her eyes, Samesia hollowly exhaled in relief, managing to lift a bloodied hand to blearily grasp at Liselle's sleeve, as if finding solace in no longer having to resign herself to a lonely death.

"The... B-Blood Pack," she hoarsely gasped at Liselle. Upon parting her lips, a mouth lined with dark blood became visible. She could not find the strength to finish, but Liselle knew her story at once with just those words.

"I've been looking for you," Liselle said, her voice cracking as a tear rolled down her cheeks, moved by her severe condition. "I'm so sorry, Samesia. I'm so sorry I wasn't fast enough."

The haze clouding Samesia's eyes seemed to dissipate. Higher awareness had returned to her, and she looked at Liselle as if she had seen her face clearly for the first time since she arrived. "Who... w-who are you?" she asked her, sounding strangely alarmed and unnerved by Liselle's harmless features. "I... I know your face... Someone m-must have sent you to me... _Someone_ had to."

"Wasea did," Liselle gently answered.

Samesia was trembling, staring at her as if she were beholding the face of a ghost. "Wasea...?" she repeated, then succumbed to a cough that sent a thin trail of blood down the side of her mouth. She seemed to know the name, although it confused her. Then, a light of realization came into her eyes. "You're... You're _Liselle_ ," she whispered, her fingers curling at her clothes in desperation. "Oh _Goddess_ ," she said, her voice quivering and breaking beneath the weight of pure emotion. "Oh G-Goddess... You're _Liselle.._."

Liselle nodded, letting her tears drip from her chin and onto the bloody clothes of the one she held. "I'm Liselle."

"Y-You look so much like her..." Samesia rasped, swept up in an exquisite, yet poignantly tragic amalgam of grief and awe. "Goddess, you look _just_ like her...I can't believe it. I can't believe you're here, after all these years..."

With a bit of exertion and biotic help, Liselle tried to lift her from the floor in her arms. "I'm going to help you," she told Samesia once she had successfully rose, her voice still tremulous. "I'm going to save you, I'm going to bring you to our best doctor, Havlon, and h-he's going to save you..."

"Liselle," Samesia quietly stopped her, "I can't... I can't go with you."

"No," Liselle objected. "No, no, I _know_ we can help you—"

"Please," she insisted, her fingers still clutching at her attire. "Please, Liselle... Believe me, y-you have to leave me. If you bring me to Aria, she'll have me killed all the same." After a small struggle, she swallowed and mustered the strength to speak again. "Even if she saves me... she'll torture me and kill me all the same. Please don't bring me to her, Liselle... If I'm t-to die, at least let me choose the manner."

Liselle gently laid her down on the bed, affording her that comfort instead of leaving her on the cold floor. She knelt at her side, still unwilling to let her go. "Then I won't take you to her! I'll take you back with me, I'll help you, I'll read every medical book I can find, I'll help you..." The information she came for was on her mind, of course, but Liselle could not bear to lose another of her past guardians, who had known her real name, who had _witnessed_ her existence in sterling truth. She had felt connected to Samesia immediately by that fact alone, by a point of shared knowledge so rare and precious in the universe, rare as family, rare as a moment of peace in the Tuhi District, on Omega.

"Liselle," Samesia weakly extended a hand to touch the girl's wet cheek, effectively hushing her. "Why would you burden yourself with me, while traveling back through Tuhi... when I haven't been in your life for fifty years? You can't possibly remember me, Liselle... But you're... you're _so_ kind. I'm so glad to have been able to see you... how you... how you've grown... You're all her goodness, Liselle. You're _every bit_ of her goodness, Goddess knows we needed it, needed you." She watched Liselle silently weep for a few moments before gave her ultimate proposition. "Liselle, please listen to me. I think I know why you're here, but... I'm not going back with you. We need you to get home safely. No matter the price. So, I have thi—things for you, in a safe... Blood Pack didn't get them. I'll give everything to you, everything you came here for, but you—you have to do something for me. Please Liselle, I n-need you to help me. I'm... I'm in pain. I'm in so much pain. Please, put an end to it."

Liselle began ceaselessly shaking her head in nonplussed horror.

"I'm dying. I've been dying all day. I can't move, I can barely... I can barely breathe. Please do this for me. The code to the safe... not ID keyed or hand-keyed, they tried to make me open it... But I had to guard it. The code is 4... 6, 6, 9, 2... Please Liselle, some mercy."

It was, without a semblance of doubt, the most difficult thing Liselle had ever done, and served as a rival for all agonizing acts she would ever commit in the future.

She would forever be haunted by the memory of how Samesia looked at her then, with overwhelming relief as Liselle drew her pristine submachine gun, how she took her hand to reassure the maiden that this was truly what she wanted. She would always remember Samesia's last words to her, spoken serenely with a genuine smile, even as a gun was pressed to her temple, "She loved you _so much_ , Liselle... You were always her little princess..."

And Liselle would forever remember how the light of conscience left Samesia's eyes, all at once; how the blood pooled endlessly, it seemed to her, smearing over her hands and sleeves; how she pushed herself away from the bed, hunched over and retched in trauma, kneeling and clutching herself, shuddering and sobbing pitifully like a child, until she gained just enough control over herself to enter the code into the wall safe Samesia had relinquished to her.

Kinara and her cadre arrived at the sound of a gunshot, perceiving the scene in alarm but retaining a respectful silence when they noticed Liselle in shambles, violently trembling as she scooped out the contents of the safe into her pack, too lost in her anguish to analyze them just yet. They watched jewelry, a physical leather-bound booklet, and two holodisks pour into the maiden's pack before she walked toward them as if the bones in her legs had disintegrated. Faithful to their deal, Liselle transferred their credits to them before they had left the building. She could never escape it fast enough.

At that instant, their excursion into Tuhi had been completed.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Liselle and her new allies parted ways shortly after leaving Samesia's residence. Kinara's trio were headed into Kenzo, she had said, while Liselle planned to find a flight back into Gozu. It might have been more appropriate to return to Mazat, but Liselle was almost certain that the abandonment of her team and her mission would result in her removal from her unit, and she would prefer not to see them again. How could they complain? She was Aria's daughter, after all; a disaster just waiting to happen as far as they were concerned, by Liselle's fault or on their own.

She kept the contact information of her companions, promising to send tips their way whenever she could, although Liselle admittedly preferred to place herself in areas and situations where happening upon corpses wasn't so commonplace. They wished each other well, and soon Liselle found herself back at Lieutenant Dissia's barricade. Again she had to request permission to be let through, and she was forced to endure Dissia's jeering upon seeing the maiden in all her cuts, bruises, bloodstains, and dried tears.

"You lost me fifty credits," Dissia cruelly remarked from her table. "I had a bet going with a few of my officers. I said we'd never see you again."

Trying her best to ignore her, Liselle passed through the barricade without further incident, wearily returned to the shuttle bay she had arrived in, and awaited the next flight with a dozen apprehensive others. Some looked to be in just as bad of shape as she was, and whenever she met eyes with these individuals, they seemed to briefly and implicitly share one another's pain and gratefulness felt at being alive after their respective trials. It was, to Liselle, somewhat reassuring.

Liselle managed to squeeze herself onto the next flight before the doors shut and the shuttle began to rise in the sky. She slumped into a seat between a nervous-looking volus on her left, and a grumbling turian on her right, and she found herself at welcomed peace, at long last.

She shut her eyes, simply listening to the rattling metals, the drone of the engine, and the hushed chatter that filled the compartment. She couldn't wait until she arrived at her apartment. She couldn't wait to shed all her burdens for just one evening before the inevitable storm named Aria T'Loak engulfed her the following morning. She planned to make herself something warm to eat, letting memories of her favorite foods tease her appetite. She wanted to eat well and collapse onto her bed, wrap herself in its warm sheets, slip Samesia's holodisks into a monitor to watch them, read from her booklet, cry over the information if warranted, and sleep for as long as physically possible until a dreaded call or message arrived at her omni-tool. For the present, the reverie sufficed.

She floated along in the tranquility of her thoughts until the shuttle unusually stuttered and slowed in the air, leaving the brisk streams of traffic to hover off to the side. Her eyes snapped open as a murmur of confusion arose in the compartment, just in time to witness the lights mounted in the ceiling flicker just once.

"Ah shit," the turian beside her irritably commented. "What _now?_ "

All around her, Liselle heard additional voicing of perplexity and frustration.

"What's going on?"

"Is the computer malfunctioning?"

"I have somewhere I need to _be!_ "

Liselle turned in her seat to peer outside the shuttle instead, to see four skycars parked alongside the other compartment. Their doors were wide open and their seats all empty, signifying that even their pilots had left their vehicles idling while they boarded. She paled, wondering if the shuttle had been hacked, and if they were all about to be robbed by these urban pirates.

The sealed exit which led into the other compartment opened, permitting an armed batarian man to enter, who brought a salarian mercenary with him. They were dressed in no identifying emblems or colors, and both were carrying heavy shotguns. Their appearance caused immediate alarm.

"Hello, hello, _hello_ , Omega!" he greeted them with profuse charisma to the point where his entrance seemed utterly sardonic. "I hope you're all enjoying your flight. I'm here to say that you'll be on your way shortly, but to stay seated in the meantime. We need to pick up an old friend we've misplaced." His final statement was weighted with intensity, his pleasant demeanor vanishing completely. "I am also here to advise you to _not fuck with us_."

"Hey _fuck you!"_ A turian man sitting near the batarian suddenly rose and drew a sidearm. "Get your batarian ass off this shuttle _now_. Do you have any idea who I am? Do you have any idea what someone like me will have someone _else_ do to you if I miss my appointment with Drialus Lorhan? I'll have you fucking strung up by your—"

In one careless motion, the salarian at his side lifted his shotgun and pulled the trigger without so much as blinking. Everyone jolted at the loud bang and threw themselves into restless, fearful whispers at the sight of the turian crumpling to the floor of the shuttle, writhing and screaming while clutching at what remained of his left knee. The salarian delivered a sharp kick to his head, rendering him unconscious, and perhaps mercifully.

The batarian clasped his hands together. "Any more questions?" he asked them, his mock-polite manners effortlessly returning. "Concerns? No? Fantastic."

He and the salarian stood by the door through which they had entered, their posture straight and their patience plentiful. Liselle stared at them with wide eyes and terrified breaths, trying to ignore the volus beside her mutter incessantly about whether they were all going to die. The wait for something to happen seemed eternal. Finally, the batarian spoke to them again.

"Everyone stand!" He barked. His order was obeyed. "Eyes forward, keep still!"

Again, they did as he said. Liselle strained to see what was transpiring past the many heads in her way, only catching glimpses of the compartment door opening and admitting three more mercenaries, then a fourth individual, who angrily stated upon seeing the bloody turian, "I gave you _one_ job, and this still happens? If I get any of it on my boots you'll be the one cleaning them from now on."

Liselle's breath caught in her throat. The voice belonging to the one evidently in command was more than familiar.

It was Aria.


	24. Self Confidence

Aria strode forward at a composed, preeminent pace through the aisle dividing the rows of seats as she was flanked by a pair of her mercenaries. Passengers grew rigid with fear when she paused to examine them, some shaking as if they would shatter at any moment. Others leered, stony and defiant, to which she responded with a dismissive smirk and nothing more, never validating their contempt as anything of consequence to her. But no one placed beneath her scrutiny dared move or speak a single word. They knew their place; where they lied on the chain of Omega's powers. Her control over them was absolute, whether they loved her, feared her, or despised her with every fiber of their beings.

Even her daughter trembled, terrified of the impending moment at which Aria would discover her among the faces. So many questions and fears flashed through her mind: Did Aria know she had abandoned her team and her mission? Who exactly was she looking for on the shuttle? Was it Liselle? Or was she just obscenely unfortunate enough to have fled Tuhi along with her mother's true quarry? And, most importantly, how was Aria going to react when she finally noticed Liselle, battered by her forays and disheveled by recent grief?

For a time the inevitable was delayed. Aria took her sweet time. There was a considerable chance that she had already identified her target, perhaps seated at the very back of the compartment, and drew great pleasure from prolonging their anticipatory anguish. It would not be unfaithful to her tendencies, which often dove straight into frigid cruelty when her most detested enemies were at hand. As the seconds passed she drew ever closer to Liselle's position, causing the maiden to involuntarily sway as her fraying nerves began to drown her in a sea of dread. Her heart felt as if it were bruising her rib cage.

At last the calamitous moment arrived. Aria turned to run her gaze down the row of seats Liselle belonged to, and sure as death and all its finality, her eyes rested on the lightly-scuffed face of her daughter. Aria halted her survey of the passengers when their eyes met, but she never conceded the slightest reaction. Her stare never deviated from cold scrutiny, never permitting anyone to see the dimmest light of familiarity arise in her irises, and therefore _never_ faltering in her ultimate mission to shield Liselle from any possible connection between them. But her stare was penetrating. Time was Aria's mode of communication. The longer she spent looking at Liselle, the more her wordless expression evolved from second to second. Surprise, relief, anger—all flickering by in the nothingness of her face.

Aria broke their mutual stare to address her batarian mercenary. "Her," she said firmly to him. But before he could reach out to seize Liselle, Aria seized _him_ by the collar of his armor and direly added, "If you have to so much as aim your shotgun at her to keep her under control, I just might aim _my_ shotgun down your throat." She released him abruptly, allowing him to nod in complete understanding and carry out her order as she continued her survey of the shuttle.

"Let's go, asari," he said to Liselle, urging her to comply for both of their sakes.

She obeyed without objection, her legs wobbling in unease while she shuffled past her volus neighbor and surrendered herself to the batarian's custody. Liselle suffered under the inquisitive gazes of the other passengers as the mercenary guided her to the door of the adjoining compartment. When it was opened, Liselle paused to steal one last glance over her shoulder, just in time to catch the sight of a batarian passenger suddenly making a dash for the emergency exit. Aria caught him with ease; slinging an arm of biotics around his waist and whipping him back down to the metal floor before her feet with a loud thud. Now standing over his incapacitated body, Aria placed one foot on his throat, grinding her boot down hard enough to elicit a wretched choke.

Liselle was unable to witness what followed. The mercenary ordered her forward, into the next compartment and through the open exit, to where a skycar waited. The salarian pilot had returned to his seat, and now sent the vehicle hovering closer to the shuttle, preparing to receive his fellow mercenary and their prisoner. With a small hop Liselle entered the skycar, taking her seat in the back before being joined by the batarian. Keeping to standard protocol, he cuffed one of her wrists to an armrest until further notice.

Several minutes elapsed. The pilot steered the skycar away from the shuttle to allow the approach of a second to pick up another group. Liselle saw the batarian prisoner, whose hands had been restrained behind his back, board the other vessel.

She knew his face. She knew him from images... He was one of Aria's former lieutenants. Eruam Anikot. Liselle was shocked to see that he had been tracked down and captured. She thought they would never see him again, after he disappeared so completely almost a month prior.

Anikot was followed by Aria, who was evidently determined to keep her eyes on him throughout the entire ride. Only then did the doors of their small fleet close with a hiss and their engines whir back to life, and they ascended in formation, melted into the traffic. The shuttle was left to continue its route more or less intact.

No one in Liselle's skycar interacted. She watched the Omegan spires flash by through the tinted windows, too weary and defeated to torture herself with thoughts of the future. Just once did the salarian pilot fill the skycar's interior with speech. His communicator, set to speaker to free his senses for attentiveness of his surroundings, crackled with a message from his boss, _"How's the girl?"_

"Quiet," he answered. "No trouble."

_"Good. She knows there will_ be _trouble if it doesn't stay that way."_

Liselle sunk into her seat, shutting her eyes and silently burning in shame.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Like Anikot, Liselle was transported to Afterlife. But unlike him, she was not escorted into the buildings beneath the nightclub and was instead transferred to the custody of three very familiar commandos. Under ordinary circumstances Liselle would have greeted them, and they might have returned the greeting with a pleasant congratulatory smile for faring well on Omega considering the difficulty of her tasks, but in their current position they exchanged no words besides an order for Liselle to endure one more skycar ride, with their dispositions grave and unresponsive throughout.

They brought Liselle to her apartment in the upper Gozu District, just a few minutes' flight away from Afterlife, but they put her under no misconception of freedom. Her pack was confiscated, and the commandos accompanied her into her home, stationing themselves in the sitting room to guard the front entryway. They staunchly remained there while Liselle was permitted to retreat into her bedroom and take advantage of an hour of limbo to shower, change into clean clothes, and tend to any small wounds inflicted upon her during her time in the Tuhi District.

While she had sat at the edge of her bed, somberly applying a bit of medicinal cream to a scrape on her forearm before covering it with a bandage and rolling her sleeve back down, Liselle heard speaking from elsewhere in her apartment. She stilled and became silent, focusing to effectively eavesdrop. Although she could not make out any of the words, one of the voices was distinctly her mother's. Her pace of speaking and inflection was tense, frustrated. It did not bode well.

Liselle considered stalling—putting off her inevitable confrontation with her mother for as long as possible—but she had the sense to recognize it would not be the most lucrative strategy. Intentionally hiding out in her room would only make Aria angrier for wasting her precious time, and anyone familiar with Aria knew well that her degree of anger was directly proportional with the degree of misery felt by everyone within twenty meters of her. It would be far wiser to face her now and be done with the storm as soon as possible. It was of some comic relief to Liselle, albeit a bit grim, to realize that her trepidation upon heading into discourse with her mother was significantly more than what was felt upon first setting foot into Tuhi.

Tentatively, Liselle opened her bedroom door, striding out with hushed steps until she reached the end of the hallway, and was greeted by the sight of the commandos still standing at the door with their firearms statuesquely held across their chests, and in the kitchenette, seated at her table, Aria. She was waiting in the chair facing Liselle, and upon her arrival her blue eyes flitted upward to find her daughter's, implicitly commanding her to join her. Liselle approached while keeping her gaze aimed at the floor, then at the surface of the table once she sat down in the chair across from Aria, refusing to suffer under her accusatory leer. If she subjected herself to it, Liselle knew she would break before long.

"Leave us," Aria said to the commandos. "You're dismissed."

Without a word they evacuated the apartment for their privacy.

For a time, Aria did not attempt to secure Liselle's undivided attention. The maiden remained staring downward, blankly fixating on the table and voluntarily detaching herself from the present, wishing to be anywhere else in the galaxy. On scorching planets with crushing atmospheres, in icy wastelands, in a sea of nitrogen. All were more hospitable than the environment Aria presently evoked.

"Are you injured?" Aria asked her at length.

Liselle shook her head.

She heard Aria exhale, possibly in relief, possibly in anger licensed from knowing Liselle was unharmed and did not require prompt attention to her health. Possibly both. No matter the reality, Aria's next statement was delivered far more harshly than the first.

"I received a message from your team," she said. "They told me you were missing, and not responding to any attempts to contact you. No one knew where you were for _nine hours."_

Liselle retained her silence.

"What were you doing on a shuttle coming from Tuhi?"

Again, Liselle did not spare her an answer.

The sudden bang sounding when Aria slammed her open palm against the table caused her to violently flinch, lift her eyes in surprise, and meet her mother's. They were vivid and intense. After capturing Liselle's attention, Aria stiffly pushed her chair out with its feet audibly scraping along the floor and rose. Liselle's gaze tracked her as she retreated to the counter where a black bag sat in an unassuming heap. She brought it back with her, sat down again, opened the plastic seal, and listlessly inverted the bag to dump its contents out onto the table. Liselle found herself staring at the items Samesia had given to her—the holodisks, bits of jewelry, the leather-bound booklet... And a wave of indignation washed over her at the sight. These were once very precious to Samesia. She had guarded them with her life, enduring even the brutality of the Blood Pack to preserve them. It was extremely probable that her refusal to give the Blood Pack access to her wall safe resulted in the struggle that had ended up killing her. These items were _not_ Aria's to take.

"Who told you about Samesia Trakas?" Aria demanded, ripping her from her thoughts.

Of all the questions she had previously asked her, this was the one Liselle was least likely to answer. Wasea had spared Liselle the information with utmost caution and an attempt to establish a situation of mutually assured destruction to prevent Liselle from speaking a word about their arrangement. As much as she may have disfavored her, Liselle refused to be an accessory in another death. There was already so much blood on her hands she doubted she could handle accumulating more in so short a time period. Plus... there was always the chance that Wasea was willing to tell her something more in the future.

"My mercenaries found Samesia in her home not long ago," continued Aria, to Liselle's disconcertion. "Dead, with a wound in her head perfectly consistent with your model of submachine gun. I know you killed her, Liselle. Now I'd like to know why." She neatly folded her hands together on the table, issuing her a look that nearly wavered beneath the pressure of her own austerity.

"Because," Liselle began, frowning deeply as her voice grew in strength from a murmur, "she was dying, and preferred that _I_ kill her instead of you. You would've tortured and killed her anyway if I brought her to you for help!"

"And I would have!" Aria abruptly shouted, pushing herself up from the table again in a burst of rage. Her breathing pattern was labored by aggression; only mitigated when she began pacing to alleviate the excess stress coursing through her body. "I can't believe you fucking _killed_ her," she bitterly said, then spoke again, her voice climbing in volume a second time, "So who else did you kill out there, Liselle? Huh? _Who else?"_

The question was likely rhetorical, but Liselle responded truthfully with a glare, "Blood Pack mercs."

"What did you say?" said Aria, completing ceasing her motions to regard her.

"I _said_ I killed some Blood Pack mercs," Liselle repeated, enunciating clearly and standing behind her words with conviction, although they pained her greatly.

Aria had lifted a hand to her mouth, covering her chin as well as she withdrew into deep, intense rumination after severing her gaze from Liselle's. She was processing the information, assigning every bit of herself to the task and never affording Liselle the smallest glimpse into her thoughts. Something within her had been severely affected by the information. Something had wrenched, cracked, burst. Eventually, her hand left her face and descended, where both were fitted onto her hips. Still she kept her eyes away from her daughter's, taking a single step to one side.

"So is my skill set complete enough for you yet?" Liselle spitefully inquired.

Her mother's eyes returned to hers, meeting again, but her expression spontaneously hardened. "That's it. You're out, Liselle. You're out of the investigation."

"So what are Malak and Rasma going to do?" Liselle asked, undeterred. It might have unsettled her to grasp just how much Aria's decree had failed to faze her, but Liselle had compromised deeper self-awareness in favor of something far more instinctual. She was tired. She was beaten, she was still famished, she was _miserable_ , and she no longer felt the need to tread carefully. She felt raw, intolerant. "How are they going to get anything done without me?"

"I'm sure they'll be just fine."

"No, they _won't."_ It was Liselle's turn to slap her hand onto the table, but she did so not to express anger, but to emphasize her significance, her importance. She hit the table three times in quick succession, as if trying to make her oblivious mother realize that she was _here_ , that she was _capable_ , that she was _something_. Not nothing, not disposable, not anything less than the daughter of the Queen; irrevocably connected and forever eclipsed by her shadow, but _damn it_ , Liselle would see herself casting a shadow of her own no matter the cost. There was ambition in her veins. It was a fire that could not be quenched. "You _need_ me on that team!" she exclaimed. "Without me, Lorhan might've been dead. Without me, Vathesa might have had enough time to wipe all of her records beyond recovery. Without me, Sahra Igrahal would have never offered to personally guide us through her affairs to make our job ten times easier! Without me, we would have never gotten this far! I _know_ my worth, Mother. I _carry_ Eingana, and you need me far more than you think!"

Her outburst did not unnerve Aria. She merely observed and comprehended. But Liselle _knew_ she was right. She felt it in every drop of blood and in every atom of her body, and she was ready to defend herself against any offense Aria returned to her, once she had finished her calm analysis of her position. In this impassioned instance, Liselle was prepared to physically grapple her if that's what it took to prove her point, even if she would be restrained or on the floor within seconds. Fortunately, Aria's reply never necessitated such drastic measures. Instead of responding to Liselle with a well-deserved eruption to cast the insolent girl back down into her place, she stepped back into her chair, took a seat, crossed her legs beneath the table, leaned forward, and spoke without the faintest trace of antagonism.

"Do you know what I felt when I read that message from your team, when they told me that they didn't know where you were?" Aria asked her. "Do you know what I felt when six, seven, _eight_ hours had passed and you hadn't read or answered any of my attempts to contact you?"

Liselle's glower began to soften.

"You don't, do you? No. And I hope you never do."

She realized, Aria's intention to remove her from Eingana hadn't been borne from wrath at all. It never was, not even the first time Aria had threatened to do it. It was always out of fear that Liselle might not make it through her next mission alive, based on prior events. Yet each time Liselle was permitted to stay with her unit, she would go out again, do something atrociously reckless, and crawl back only to accuse her mother of exerting excessive control over her life. It was ironic. It was... selfish, Liselle admitted. Each time she would wound Aria and blame her for standing in the way of her knife. Aria was certainly not free from fault, since her own actions often inspired the maiden's reactionary excursions, but Liselle considered herself no better for forcing Aria to vicariously bleed for her. It wasn't sustainable, how they inflicted pain back and forth, endlessly.

Liselle could recall a handful of moments during her time in the Tuhi District where she was fairly certain that she would never see her mother again. And Aria would have never known what became of her. Where she had gone, _why_ she had gone, how she died... Liselle would have disappeared, so suddenly, completely, and seemingly without reason. The idea frightened her, and she could only imagine how Aria had reacted to it.

Growing remorseful, Liselle quietly began, "I'm... I'm sorry, I just... I just needed to..."

Aria listened to her reasoning devolve into a nonsensical stutter before it was abandoned completely. When Liselle grew quiet again, realizing that there was truly nothing that could be said in justification, Aria said to her, quietly, "Come here for a minute, Liselle."

Her daughter obeyed, pulling herself up from her chair and onto her feet before rounding the table to stand before Aria, who had reoriented herself in her direction. Without further prompting Liselle took a final step forward and brought her arms around her. Her embrace was reciprocated without delay, immediately finding herself gathered into Aria's arms and held close.

Liselle was perhaps too old to sit across her mother's lap, but she was certainly not too heavy, nor was she too proud to deny that it still brought her comfort when her spirits ailed. Aria was the same strong wall of assurance she'd always been, always composed, and always with a solution to any conceivable problem. She held Liselle like she had when she was a child, letting the girl bury her face into her shoulder without caring that she might weep into the expensive white leather. But Liselle couldn't, even if she tried. All her tears had been spent over the last day, and any sob that might have left her now was dry and painful. She clutched at Aria's jacket, torn between guilt and childish resent, but too weary to entertain the latter with conviction any longer. Instead she resorted to implicitly beseeching her mother for her love and consolation to mend the wounds she carried.

"I know what you were doing there," Aria told her, but grew quiet. Her silence seemed an admission, to the possibility that Aria had driven her there. They were the consequences of the existence she led, and she accepted them, bore them perceptively and without denial. She inhaled and sighed, slowly and gradually before saying something more, "I was always afraid you'd be like me."

Liselle was initially baffled by the comment. She had never thought herself to be much like Aria at all in anything besides appearance and a few stray mannerisms. She was too skittish, too vulnerable to uncertainties, too prone to emotional disturbances... Her list came to a premature end when she felt Aria turn and press her lips to the side of her head, tenderly and profoundly, and it seemed strange to Liselle that she had. The last time she had done so, Liselle had believed it was just that; the _last time_. It had certainly seemed that way, judging by how she kissed her as if it were a final goodbye to Liselle as a little girl. Yet still she treated her now as she had before—providing her with all the motherly affection she could physically offer through her embrace, promises of protection, oaths of eternal and unconditional love. The previous goodbye had been real, but it was not a reflection of Aria's ability to remain faithful to its statement. Near-adulthood did not revoke Liselle's status of being her daughter. Over endless eons of time, should Aria have witnessed them, there would never arrive a moment at which Liselle ceased to be her little girl, even if Liselle vehemently denounced the title. It was simply indelible, etched in the walls of Aria's heart as scar tissue and never to fade until the day death took her.

"No one was ever able to tell me what to do," Aria elaborated, speaking beside her crest as she rubbed Liselle's back, soothing her away from how she tightly clung to her jacket and tearlessly grieved into its material. "And I always went out of my way to make a point to prove it. Instructors, police... not even my own mother. I used to resent her, Liselle. When I was in my fifties and sixties, I resented her passionately."

Liselle said nothing, once again deferring the conversation to her mother. Although, she was able to withdraw from Aria's shoulder, instead laying the side of her face upon it as she listened.

"Of course she loved me, but I didn't care," continued Aria. "She tried to control me. She got in my way. So I stopped talking to her completely, cut her out of my life. I didn't spare her a farewell when I left Thessia, and I never attempted to contact her again. By now, she's probably dead. She would've been well over a thousand."

Liselle pulled her head back to stare at her, shocked that Aria had disclosed something so personal to her.

"I used to assume that she wouldn't mind my disappearance, based on the grief I used to cause her," Aria said. "It's been _hundreds_ of years, but only now do I realize what she might have felt in actuality."

She sorrowfully looked at her mother even as Aria lifted her hands to hold Liselle's face steady, her voice now imbued with great purpose and emphasis. "Liselle, I need you to promise me something. I know with a fair amount of certainty that there will be another day, like this one, where you will defy me. I'm not saying I won't be furious if you do. I'm not saying that I'll excuse you from consequences. I _will_ exert my control over the situation. I _will_ attempt to stop you and penalize you. But even so, you need to find a way to inform me whether you're safe. I don't care what it is. I don't care about the means, or what sort of fit you're having, or whoever you've conned into bringing along. _Do not force me_ to wonder if my daughter is still alive."

Immediately Liselle nodded in her hands, her eyes bright and emotional as she agreed to the terms and leaned in to hug her again.

"And I don't care how angry you are with me," said Aria, "or how angry I am with you. If you _ever_ need me, I _will_ come get you. I _will_ be there, Liselle. I will always be there."

Woe to those who would dare harm Aria's daughter. She simmered with resolve as she held Liselle, her baby, keeping her wrapped in her heart strings no matter how she hurt her, no matter how she wept like a child, blundered, or vexed her, and no matter how far she ran from her. Aria reserved wrath of inconceivable depths for anyone who ever caused her anguish or injury. A wrath that could shake her fists for being impossible to contain within worldly flesh for more than the second it would take her to seize Liselle's enemies and gore them with her bare hands.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Aria was glowing with pride. Tevos could hear it lacing her voice, carrying every syllable on her finest arrogance and self confidence. She sat in her office chair, smiling involuntarily while listening to Aria boast about the quality of her agents and her vast networks of intel. Omega was realm to which people fled to _disappear_ , she had said. When an individual went dark, finding them in Sahrabarik was next to impossible. Overcoming such bleak odds were only a testament to the capabilities of her organization.

The councilor had no choice but to maintain her silence and permit Aria's moment of shining glory to persist uninterrupted, regardless of how much it would have amused her to suddenly inform Aria that her information had only been provided to her syndicate through the dedicated efforts of Shiala and the other acolytes of allied matriarchs. She could only imagine the offense and denial Aria would respond with, finding herself so abruptly in a position of embarrassment that neither of them would ever forget for as long as they lived. Some day, Tevos thought as she continued to fail at banishing her smile from her features, perhaps once this outlandish information war was over, she would open her records and correspondences to Aria if only to behold her legendary reaction. Scenarios played through her mind, teasing her. Tevos pictured Aria lifting her eyes from the documents to stare at her with blank surprise, destined to morph into a glare if the corners of Tevos's lips so much as twitched, before looking down again and applying a disgruntled hand to her head to visor her expression.

Tevos ceased entertaining such thoughts to prevent herself from succumbing to a laugh, which might have led to questions about just what she was concealing.

_"He's locked up tight,"_ Aria reported. _"I'm going to let him rot for a few days and use that time to get organized and make sure none of our enemies miss him. I can't_ wait _to get my hands on that man... I had to send him away under guard as soon as we arrived at my club. It took great effort on my part to resist the temptation to exact my revenge during the ride there."_

"I'm happy to hear that you've obtained something so easily wielded against your enemy," Tevos bestowed her congratulations. "This could very well mean the end of the conflict, if the information Eruam Anikot possesses contains identities and locations of leaders. Do you intend to celebrate at all?"

_"I don't make a habit of celebrating prematurely."_

Tevos paused to consider something she had been seriously pondering lately. She abhorred the idea of being too forward about it, but neither was she a bashful maiden. It might have inconvenienced her severely, if she had not yet lived long enough to learn how to suspend herself between those two extremes. "A pity," she tactfully began, folding one leg over the other beneath her desk. "I was thinking that all our hard work was perhaps due for compensation."

Aria laughed. _"Oh, yes. If I have to endure one more night of tedium with the asari councilor I might just lose my mind. We're sorely in need of some fun."_

"Then how do you suppose we make things more... lively?" Tevos asked, pleased to hear that Aria was amenable to her suggestion. "How about a bottle of wine, to start?"

_"I'd like that,"_ answered Aria. She sounded intrigued in earnest by the idea. _"I_ have _been waiting for a good excuse to open a few of the bottles in my cabinet. I'll bring a nice vintage with me next time. Then we can start discussing the terms of your debt to me."_

"Is it to be so elaborate as to require a full negotiation?"

_"Mm, it could be. I'm sure we'll work something out either way."_

An unusually twisted thought came to Tevos's mind. Perchance she found herself with Aria on the night they described, repaying this 'debt' in full and growing ever closer to its completion. Rather than meeting Aria's demands at the last stretch of intimacy, could Tevos possibly be so cruel as to not only deny her satisfaction, but to use that precise moment to inform Aria that Tevos had been responsible for her latest victory? Aria might hate her for eternity, or she might just as easily love her for eternity, if some of her bed habits and other interesting behaviors were any indication of her mental and emotional structuring.

She would not tell her then, of course, to preserve the usefulness of that unit on Omega. It was just an idle fancy, but the fact that she was fond of it alerted Tevos to her cruelty possibly surpassing Aria's, when weighed within the parameters of their relationship. How unnerving and peculiar, she thought. Did the laws of conservation dictate that Aria's former 'cruelty' find another conduit to be relayed through, if not herself? However, for all Tevos knew, Aria still privately devised similar ways to torment her as well.

"That aside, Aria," said Tevos, deeming it a good time to address a concern she'd been meaning to consult her about. "Yesterday I joined Councilor Estulius in his office for a word. The people who once composed his platoon were brought to my attention, as well as a name that I found oddly familiar. Does the name 'Visiom' mean anything to you?"

Aria had paused. _"It was the name of my former right-hand, before Zuria Alaris. His name was Aetius Visiom."_

"And how old was he, exactly? In his sixties, maybe?"

_"No. Thirties, forties at the most. So you're telling me that the turian councilor once served beside a Visiom?"_

"Marus Visiom, to be exact. Do you think it could merely be a coincidence, or do you think there's something of import behind it?" Tevos roused her private terminal from its dim, hibernating state and searched the given name. She ended up revisiting the pages she had the day previously when first captivated by the Visiom name, which consisted of deactivated online profiles and photos, all taken more than twenty years previously.

_"I wouldn't dismiss any correlation at this point,"_ replied Aria. _"An operative of mine, Rasma Visiom, is the only Visiom left as far as I'm aware, and she married into the name. Whoever he is, he's unknown to me. But it's not a common turian name. They're likely linked, somehow, even if they're only extended family."_

"What are the chances that Marus could've been the father of your Aetius Visiom?"

_"I couldn't tell you off-hand. But it's possible, and I'll look into it."_

"All right. Tell me your findings in person, if they're consequential."

_"Only if you ask me nicely. I won't have you ordering me around, Councilor."_

Tevos rolled her eyes. She knew Aria wasn't completely serious, but it still warranted a rebuttal. But it did not arrive in the medium of words. Tevos ended the call, abruptly, in revenge for all those times Aria had also phrased her advice too authoritatively, or suddenly terminated calls while Tevos was in mid-sentence. If Aria T'Loak was to share her time, her bed, and even her mind on occasion, she would have to come to terms with the fact that she was contending with a councilor. It certainly made Tevos more difficult to dominate than, say, Aria's aforementioned dancer, but she had a powerful suspicion that Aria enjoyed it greatly beneath her ironic complaints that Tevos could be too 'domineering'. She understood Aria now, or at least that specific facet of her—that natural predilection for allies who challenged her, who met her gaze and did not falter beneath it, who regularly exercised their own influence and jurisdiction. Aria liked _power_ , and she liked it even more when she could fraternize with it. Fighting Aria back, in this context, was equivalent to the most unambiguously inviting, flirtatious glance.

It was also immensely pleasing to Tevos that she had managed to arrange the _date_ that had been on her mind, although she frantically avoided using that word in serious descriptions. She had considered herself victorious over the next several minutes, but when she received a message to her omni-tool Tevos was made unsure. It was from Aria as expected, and its subject read simply, _A few suggestions_.

What followed was perhaps the most sexually explicit message Tevos had ever received; while not unpleasantly so. With every line she read her face felt as if it had grown a degree or two warmer, heated by voluptuary concepts of what Aria intended for their next meeting, including a rather nontraditional method of consuming wine that caused Tevos to close the mail client from sheer mortification. To her credit, Aria certainly knew how to counter her attempts to disadvantage her. Naturally, the only way to not concede the battle to Aria was _replying in kind,_ provided she was able to finish reading through the contents of the original message first. Her office was hardly the place for it, but Tevos reopened the mail client, the action carried by as much insatiable curiosity as it was by the compelling desire to compete with Aria. She continued reading with a pensive hand held over her mouth, nearly in consternation if she hadn't been genuinely interested in the stimulating contents.

Tevos would entertain thoughts of similar lust at times, but they rarely if ever left the confines of her mind, and _certainly_ not in the form of speech or writing. The situation posed a difficult choice. Could she bring herself to compose a reply? Her blush deepened, now noticeable on her cheekbones. She admittedly wanted to, to some degree. What an interesting opportunity, she thought, to delineate certain desires flitting through her idle mind as of late without having to solicit Aria's attention for that very purpose. She already had it. That, in conjunction with considering how Aria might react upon realizing that the asari councilor was able and willing to play the game she proposed, Tevos found the attrition of temptation gradually eroding away her arguments against proceeding.

An empty reply window was opened, lying blank in the interface in her omni-tool as she rehearsed what could be said. The endeavor was far more difficult than she originally predicted. Each time she began keying out a viable scenario to stir Aria with, she would suddenly erase the line after finding her words inadequate due to crudeness or silliness, regardless of whether they were in truth or only in her own critical perception. At one point she realized that the first paragraph she had actually been able to complete read like legal parlance, and it too was mercilessly deleted. Seeking an example to learn from, Tevos referred back to Aria's original message, intentionally analyzing the prose and its diction until she believed herself to have grasped the fundamentals. On this attempt, Tevos did not erase so easily or often. Gradually her response was composed, growing ornate with libidinous fantasies she had never divulged before, while showing confidence in her own desirability and blooming comfort with speaking to Aria in this manner.

Her goal was clear: to warm Aria with her words as she had done to her, whether it occurred in her face or elsewhere. By the time she had nearly finished the same effect was beginning to reflect within herself, causing her to pause and recollect herself over a moment.

When a chime announcing a call from her secretary's desk sounded, Tevos nearly flinched in surprise and lowered her omni-tool on reflex before answering. "Yes, Eleni?"

_"Ma'am, a 'Falteus Drusarius' is here for a brief visit, he says. I have your next appointment scheduled in about an hour from now. Would you like me to let him through?"_

"Go ahead, Eleni. I have a bit of spare time. Thank you." Tevos hastily saved her message as a draft to complete at a later time and smoothed her hands over her dress, taming any creases that might have gathered there in preparation to greet her unexpected guest. It was curious that Falteus had paid her a visit, and there were many interesting implications to sort through.

When he came into her office they exchanged a cordial greeting, with Falteus staying true to his customary _Madam Councilor_ whenever he addressed her. As before he was impeccably dressed, albeit skirting the borders of formal attire as to remain appropriately humble, and arrived boasting the decency to put many of Tevos's questions to rest without needing to be asked, sparing the councilor from the worry of seeming invasive or curt if she had brought herself to inquire instead.

"I came to pay Kylris a visit, originally," he began to explain. "And I found it proper to extend the same courtesy to you, Madam Councilor, after having been fortunate enough to make your acquaintance. I only hope I haven't inconvenienced you or interrupted anything of import. I'm aware that you are a very busy woman and I would not be offended in the slightest if this was not the most opportune time for a conversation."

"Oh it's quite all right," Tevos dismissed his concern. She gestured to her auxiliary arrangement of tables and seating situated on the far side of her office, guiding them into that commodious space for comfort. As they made their short journey to the sofas, she went on, "I may consider myself busy, as you've said, but I also consider myself organized enough to afford myself periodic diversions throughout the day, such as this one."

They sat down, adjacently from one another, with the healthy light of the Presidium upon them.

"So, how have you been lately, Madam Councilor?" Falteus asked her.

"Please; Councilor Tevos or Councilor suffices. And I have been well."

"Very well, Councilor," he said with a nod.

"How was your visit with Councilor Estulius? Does he seem to have time to spare for unofficial engagements?"

"On occasion," Falteus estimated. "I asked him prior, just to be certain that my trip to the Embassies would not be in vain. He's been growing quite close to your extended family as of late, hasn't he?"

Tevos lightly sighed. "I'm afraid so, against my advisement. I'm sure you recall all those accusations thrown our way shortly after he came into office. We've only just managed to shake free of the worst of them, yet he insists on being ambitious."

"He's a man of business," said Falteus, adding a faint, wry smile. "I'm sure he aims to rekindle relations between your families, for the benefit of Armax. He remains the largest shareholder in the galaxy, coincidentally, and thus holds immense influence over the company itself. He's told me in the past that he feels as though he's steered their affairs more than the CEO and the board of directors combined. In practicality, Armax is his and he's intent on growing it until leaving it in the hands of his eldest."

"I'm sure he's interested in entering talks with the companies my family has nurtured close connections to over the centuries," Tevos grimly surmised, "in pursuit of conglomerations. I really do hope they all know what they're doing. When the Council becomes purely comprised of scions from the largest corporations in the galaxy, we'd be setting a rather worrisome precedent. It is, in honesty, the entire reason why I bequeathed my inherited shares and offered position on the board to my half-sister, so long ago. Business-inclined politicians should take great care in compartmentalizing their occupations. A society is not a business, and should never be ran as such. A business seeks to profit and expand, whereas a government should never actively aspire to run surplus budgets when those funds can be better allocated to public welfare. Ideally, a government organizes, redistributes, and _provides_. I may sound _patently_ asari in asserting so, but it remains a core philosophy of mine."

"You may be surprised to know that turians are not so different in that regard," offered Falteus. "The volus have tremendously aided my people in their financial success. As you know, our society is firmly based in service and duty to the people. In ancient times, Palaven's economy was simplistic, revolving around infrastructure, practical necessities, scientific ventures, and whenever necessary, war. The scramble for luxuries and excess was a recent addition to our culture, actually inspired by the asari, I believe." He laughed. "With all due respect, and while saying this in the most light-hearted manner possible, Councilor, your people value leisure and amenities more than any race we have yet encountered."

"Long lives provide ample time to enjoy oneself," Tevos said with a smile. She deemed it a good time to transition between topics. "If I may intrude on your personal business, Estulius informed me that you are a biotic, and served with skill during your years in the military."

"Ah, yes. I was. Technically _still am_ I suppose, due to the implants, but like my days of service I have also largely retired from it."

Their attention was suddenly seized by the sound of the office door opening, admitting Irissa, who carried a datapad in hand and had already launched into a sentence before she lifted her eyes and saw that Tevos was missing from her desk. A look to her left located her, as well as her guest. Falteus peered at Irissa inquisitively for a moment, then turned to the councilor to assess her reception of the intruder. Tevos only appeared vaguely exasperated.

"Tevos, there you are," said the ambassador, making her way over to the sitting area while eyeing Falteus with immense interest. He seemed subtly unnerved by her scrutiny.

Tevos set aside her disapprobation to introduce them. "Irissa, this is Falteus Drusarius. He once served in the same platoon as Estulius. And this is Ambassador Irissa Nomasi. She participates in maintaining the relationship between the asari people and the Council. I suppose it should also be clarified that Irissa has been a personal friend of mine for many years, and no longer finds announcing one's presence to be in proper etiquette."

"You look terribly familiar," Irissa remarked to Falteus while settling down into the seats with them. She seemed unfazed by Tevos's oblique complaint regarding her entrances. "Have we met?"

"Not formally," he replied. "Although you may recognize me from Estulius's inauguration. I was among those in attendance."

"That must have been it," decided Irissa. She then proceeded to commandeer the entire conversation with a second question. "So, I'm assuming you've been acquainted with Tevos through Estulius?"

"Through Nerava N'Yiria, if you wish to be precise," Falteus politely corrected her.

"Nerava... was she the one who was drinking all night at the reunion? Sorry for not remembering, there were so many names."

Falteus laughed at the apt description, while Tevos replied with an amused smile, "It could be no other."

They remained seated and immersed in discussion for a time, up until Tevos announced that her next appointment was approaching. During their chat, however, Tevos had become keenly aware of Irissa's periodic, furtive glances sent her way, bearing a peculiar aspect of instigation or suggestion of something Tevos knew to be the presumption that Falteus was the one whom she had be seeing. Under normal circumstances she would have discreetly shook her head to guide Irissa away from the mistake, but when dealt the opportunity to clear some of the suspicions the other asari had about Aria, Tevos did nothing of the sort. Meanwhile, Falteus seemed utterly perplexed by Irissa and her forwardness; a curiosity among most of the asari diplomats and magnates he had encountered over the years, whose conversational grace and evasion had become expected from her people.

When Falteus bid them farewell and departed the councilor's office, not five seconds had elapsed before Irissa faced Tevos to brusquely comment, "He's a fantastic catch, Tevos. Are you sleeping with him?"

She stonily leered at Irissa for a moment, possessing enough resolve to communicate her disapproval at the inappropriate question, although her face grew warm with abashment. Although that was what she wanted Irissa to believe, directly confronting the issue and lying about it so brazenly disturbed Tevos. Her gaze averted to her desk, and Tevos stated upon retaking her chair again, "That is hardly your business, Irissa. This isn't university anymore. We're not maidens gossiping in the halls."

"I _know_ I sound intrusive," Irissa said, her straightly-held shoulders falling into lax admission, "but I was just... well, excited for you, in a sense. I know how infrequently you date, and I know you still intend to start a family some day... and you're, well—" She offered a droll, apologetic smile, but it failed to mitigate Tevos's displeasure at her following words, "—starting to get _up there_ in years..."

"Irissa, please. I've only met him very recently. Don't you think it's far too early for you to be making assumptions?"

"So you _are_ seeing him?" Irissa asked, her eyes lighting with intrigue.

"We can talk about this at a later time," Tevos immediately insisted. She gestured to her office's door, urging her to depart.

"But I still have something for you to—"

Irissa was herded out of the office before she could finish, finding herself back in the anteroom with Eleni and the official waiting for their appointment with the councilor.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Although Aria had remained to console her daughter for a time, Liselle was not permitted to escape penalty for the reckless abandonment of her mission. Nothing more was said about her occupational status, causing to Liselle to assume for all intents and purposes that she had been permanently removed from her team. In addition—in case losing her first job hadn't already devastated her—Aria had not returned Samesia's belongings to Liselle. She took them with her, presumably to never be seen by Liselle's eyes again.

Gloomy and exhausted from grief, Liselle initially resigned herself to brooding for the rest of the day, but after fixing herself a meal and spending a few hours curled up in bed streaming vids to her monitor to empty her mind of anything remotely complex, the tedium quickly ate at her until she threw the sheets off her body, put on her boots, fitted her gun to her belt, and disembarked for Afterlife in search of something more stimulating.

Liselle's spirits only dropped again when queuing for the nightclub, where the bouncer did not immediately let her through due to certain authorizations having been revoked since losing her job. It was only fortunate that Aria had left her on a VIP list and was granted entry after a short waiting period. Waiting at all was not something she was accustomed to, and it frustrated her even while passing by the regular line where patrons could find themselves waiting more than an hour or two if Afterlife was particularly impacted at the time.

Once inside the club, Liselle surveyed its populace, searching the red sea of faces for one in specificity. She found who she was looking for, eventually, at the peak of the staircase leading into the lounge Aria so often occupied just out of sight. Anthya lingered on the top step, turning slightly to send a flirtatious gaze back over her shoulder, accompanied with a few inaudible words, before resuming her descent past the guards and to the floor. Liselle caught her attention shortly after, placing a mirthful smile on the dancer's pretty face as she greeted her and draped an arm around Liselle's shoulders to escort her to an unoccupied table.

It was as it had been during the last time Liselle spoke to her. Anthya was between shifts again, enjoying her copious free time lounging about and speaking with patrons she had befriended, including Liselle. When they sat down they ordered some drinks, and Anthya asked how Liselle had been doing. The maiden answered truthfully, albeit vaguely, claiming that her day could have definitely been better. The dancer offered her condolences and attempted to cheer her up with an hour of stories. Tales from her impoverished, thieving days out on Omega's streets, to tales about luring away and capturing dangerous spies who had come to Afterlife to sabotage Aria. Liselle was delighted by them all.

Then came a question that caused Liselle to briefly sputter in her drink—possibly the worst beverage to have entered any passage other than her throat due to the sharp, stinging burn. Anthya had first stated, tentatively, once her last story had been concluded, "Listen, Liselle... Remember when you needed the wine? I know I never asked, and never wanted to know who exactly you were. And I still don't, _truly_. No, no, _no_. But I do know you must be someone familiar with Aria to some personal degree, and I..." She trailed off a moment, carefully assembling her question before issuing it. "I was wondering if you had any inkling as to why she's been a bit... strange, lately, maybe due to something troubling her. And strange as in... infrequently desiring my attention, but when she does, desiring it _aggressively_."

After spending some time choking on her liquor, Liselle looked back at Anthya with reddened eyes and confessed to her, "I _really_ wouldn't know anything about that. I really, really, _really_ wouldn't know and wouldn't want to." She found a napkin to wipe her mouth with, realizing that she direly needed to expand her circle of friends. It wasn't that she disliked Anthya any amount. On the contrary Liselle liked her quite a bit for her amiability and natural charm, but she was beginning to seriously doubt the appropriateness of their acquaintanceship.

Anthya incisively picked up on the maiden's discomfort and changed the subject. To Liselle's relief, she never brought up anything remotely related to the topic ever again. Instead she insisted that Liselle accompany her the next time she went shopping in a fashion district, justifying her suggestion with a smile and a compliment that made her faintly blush, "You're _so_ _cute,_ Liselle. So many things would look perfect on you. We need to dress you up sometime. We'll go soon, all right? Lunch is on me."

When Liselle returned home she was only able to keep evading the vice of self-pity by taking to the apartment's rooftop to practice her biotic techniques. Tuhi had been a painful yet enlightening experience for her, allowing Liselle to recognize the many essential skills she still either lacked or had left underdeveloped. She cycled through her repertoire of biotic abilities, practicing each one several times on junk targets before she found herself standing at the edge of the roof, looking down three stories to the next balcony that partitioned the complex.

Brimming with courage, Liselle backed up before entering a running start, leaping off the roof while cloaking herself in the most stable barrier she could presently conjure. The balcony rushed at her as she drew near. At the moment she deemed optimal, Liselle cast a throw on herself to counteract her descent, and attempted to sustain it to buffer her landing. As she feared, Liselle landed hard after popping herself back into the air, committing the same error as she had while in Tuhi. She staggered to her feet and dusted herself off, feeling the throb of nascent bruises on her legs, but she remained dauntless. Liselle rounded the balcony to hop onto the fire escape, which she used to bring her back to her former location on the roof, and tried again.

Liselle attempted the feat numerous times, enduring the sting in her ankles and the bruises on her knees each time she failed. She wondered if any of her neighbors were being disturbed by the repeated thuds heard behind their homes, and hoped no one would emerge from the building to stop her.

After recovering from a jump that had her rolling onto her side, curling into a fetal position, and expelling a long and drawn-out grunt from behind her clenched teeth, Liselle reached the fire escape with an ache in her limbs to find the door leading back into the apartment opening upon her arrival. Liselle froze, hoping that whoever had arrived to investigate the source of the disturbance would be relatively peaceful if she apologized and ceased her practice, but she was relieved to see that the one emerging onto the roof was not any of her neighbors. It was Lieutenant Zuria, immediately casting her gaze about the area to isolate the origin of the mysterious banging while toting an unlabeled gray box beneath one arm.

"Liselle?" she said, equally surprised as the maiden was to see her there. "What in Athame's name are you doing up here? I was about to send a message your way since you weren't answering your door, but then I heard..."

Liselle hobbled over to her, smiling through a small wince as she rubbed one of the muscles in her thigh, determined to shake off the pain and afford the elder asari a proper greeting. "Zuria! I was... practicing those jumps I could never get the hang of."

"Off the _roof?_ "

"I couldn't think of a better place..."

Zuria shook her head, smiling wryly. "All right Liselle, wrap it up before you end up breaking something. Come on, let's head back to your apartment. I have a bit of time off and I've got a present for you." She indicated the large box she carried, bringing a gleam of curiosity to Liselle's eyes as the girl followed her back into the building.

Once inside Liselle's apartment, Zuria brought her box over to the kitchen table and found a knife to slice open the seal. Liselle waited with utmost intrigue, standing behind one of the chairs with her hands folded over its back, watching as Zuria pulled the box open and retrieved a dark mass of compactly folded attire, although the padded bulk associated with certain areas contributed to the overall mass which had necessitated a larger container. Zuria began unfolding the article, slowly revealing a full body suit, much like Liselle's training commando leathers, but composed of sections of varying material where the primary was a tough, blade resistant matte-textured fabric, while other planes sweeping down the chest and arms were traditional Thessian leather dyed a rust red-brown. The additional bulk of the suit was attributed to its armor padding, tucked beneath the surface to guard the torso, the outer regions of the limbs, and punctuated locations down the spine. Even so, the padding was not true plated armor, and by no means a hard-suit. Though extremely difficult to penetrate and offering an impressive amount of shock absorption from potential blows, the padding was light and flexible enough to not restrict the movement of the biotic or infiltrator in mind upon its original designing. Its practical value was only rivaled by its aesthetic appeal.

Liselle was stunned by the suit.

"It was your mother's idea," said Zuria, pleased by the evidence of shock and excitement lighting up the maiden's face. "She saw the tears on your leathers when she found you on the shuttle, and decided you needed something new. Something fit for Liselle T'Loak." She grinned. "So she gave me some basic guidelines of what she wanted for you and deferred the rest to me, since I'm more familiar with your skills and what you'll need out there in the future. I picked this out. I think you'll like it. It's lightweight, the fabric breathes really well, doesn't chafe, and..." Zuria paused to manipulate the suit, turning it so a tiny, almost flat module protected by a thin layer of padding sewn into the lower waist became prominent. She pressed her fingertips to two switches simultaneously, and Liselle saw a pale wavering light flicker over the suit, swiftly glazing over its entirely before fading. "It has a power cell for kinetic shields. Extra protection if your barriers fail."

"This is really for me?" Liselle asked, holding out her arms to receive the suit as Zuria held it out to her.

The lieutenant gave her a look of sardonic amusement. "Liselle," she began, "You're _Aria T'Loak's_ baby. Even if she saw you with a single scratch in that shuttle she would've bought you this."

"I know, it's just..." Liselle trailed off momentarily, starting to idly fold the suit she now carried into its former tidy square. "I didn't think she would get me this since she kicked me off Eingana. There's not exactly many opportunities for me to get into firefights unless I'm out there with them..."

"There are plenty of opportunities for that just out here in the markets," Zuria offered a possible explanation. "I'm sure she wants to make sure you're prepared for any situation. And who knows, she might reconsider. I may not know everything about your mother, but I know enough to say that she'll put you back into danger if it makes you happy and free." She rolled her eyes at the probable truth. "She really tries to control you, Liselle. I know. I see it. But she also wants to make sure that she isn't taking away your self-determination. You know, the soul of Omega. It's a paradox she can't seem to work out yet, and sometimes... you suffer for it. But no matter what happens, her job, and my job, is to make sure you're going to be well-protected."

After watching Liselle pensively rubbing her fingers over the suit's material in examination, Zuria suggested to her, "How about you try it on now?"

Liselle agreed, retreating into her bedroom while Zuria sat down at her kitchenette table, waiting patiently. A few minutes elapsed before Liselle appeared at the end of the hall again, striding into view while clad in her new light armor suit, whose padding somewhat compensated for her slightness. She came to stop near the counters, smiling demurely as she awaited Zuria's judgement.

"It looks perfect," she said, then added with a good-natured laugh, "You definitely look like a mercenary I'd hire, Liselle. How does it feel? Comfortable?"

"Very," Liselle replied, taking a moment to roll her arm back several times to verify her statement. "It's _really_ light. Makes me want to try jumping off the roof some more."

Zuria laughed. After some time spent modeling the suit, testing out its range of movement, and having Liselle suffer (while they both laughed themselves nearly to tears) under a hail of kitchen utensils Zuria threw her way to 'test the shields', Liselle departed to change back into her casual clothes. She neatly folded her precious suit, stowed it away safely in a drawer beside her lightly-damaged leathers, and returned to find Zuria still seated at the table with her deck of cards placed in its center. Elated, Liselle joined her for a game.

When Zuria had finished distributing the cards, leaving them to set up their hands and sides of the table, she decided to hazard venturing into a sensitive topic, not in malice, nor even in curiosity, but in an attempt to provide Liselle with support. "Your mother told me why you were in Tuhi."

Liselle frowned. "I never even told her, she just... knew."

"The fact that you went to Samesia Trakas told her everything she needed to know," reasoned Zuria, only pausing to let Liselle make the first move of their game. "We were worried about you, while you were missing. We really did fear the worst. But, that's not what I'm trying to get at right now. I just wanted to tell you that although you scared us half to death... Going into Tuhi like that, in search of something dear to you, must have taken a lot of courage. Assuming it _was_ courage, and not just ignorance."

The girl shrugged one shoulder, unsure of which it was herself.

"Anyway, Liselle, lately I've been noticing that in you. This new courage you never really had before. This self confidence. I mean, when you were younger you were _all_ talk, always telling everyone what you were going to do and threatening to do it, but every time you'd back out before actually doing anything. But I'm definitely not encouraging more of these little expeditions. I suppose I mean to say that you really are becoming capable. You should just start focusing it on things that don't involve diving into warzones by yourself and jumping off roofs."

For a time, neither spoke beyond those words needed to carry their game. Soon Liselle found herself with a question floating along in her mind, coalescing and rising to the forefront until she could not help herself but give it voice. "When my mother found me, she was capturing Anikot. We were on the same shuttle. What's going to happen?"

Zuria drew in a deep breath, setting down a card to end her turn while reassigning her thoughts to the task of discerning what was confidential information, and what could safely be disclosed to Liselle. "Well, we have him," she opened with the obvious. "And he's under lock and key until Aria's ready to interrogate him. It might be a few days from now after starving him out, or it might be tomorrow. Today she's been working with her intelligence network, doing research, trying to make sure he wasn't still in contact with the enemy, and if he was, she'll try to substitute an impersonator to intercept communications. It was peculiar, how we suddenly found him. All his information was just _there_ , right beneath our noses for who knows how long."

"Will my mother be able to convince him to talk?"

A grim laugh departed Zuria. "Without the slightest sliver of doubt." She slowly shook her head. "Over the hundred years Aria's been in power, she has _never_ walked away from an interrogation without learning exactly what she came there for. Whatever Anikot knows... she'll know soon enough."

It was an ominous, though reassuring answer. Liselle knew that horrors awaited Anikot if he did not comply. She had never been informed of what those horrors consisted of, but for Aria to have never failed in breaking a prisoner, they must have been nothing short of atrocious. The torture sessions were, after all, the predominant reason why Zuria had resigned from her position on Aria's administration so long ago, and Zuria was by no means emotionally fragile. She was empathetic and warm to her allies, but when issued her orders she could kill just as unremittingly and prolifically as her boss did. It was quite possible that her breaking point was met whenever the suffering of their enemies was prolonged.

Liselle carefully asked her, "Are you going to be present for it?"

"Yes," she said with a weary sigh. "Aria wants me to be there. She said I should treat it as a test to see if I've been hardened enough since the last time. Hopefully it'll go smoothly. Anikot was once one of Aria's lieutenants, so he knows what's in store for him if he makes things difficult for her. I just hope Aria's going to be all business about it, and not give in to... desires for personal vengeance. Either way, we need to get things in motion soon. It's been a long time since we've been attacked, and... well, it's a bit foreboding."

On that note, the two asari withdrew into silence and continued their game without delving back into conversation. The kitchenette was only filled with excited speech again after nearly two hours had passed, and Liselle had made the startling discovery that she had defeated Zuria at their card game. It was such a rare occurrence that she could not help but rise from her chair and lift her fists victoriously over her head, basking in the nonexistent praise of an invisible audience as she hopped up and down on her toes. Zuria laughed at the maiden's joy, allowing her to savor her win without intervention. As far as Zuria was concerned, Liselle deserved it.


	25. Just Business

Three days had passed since the Tuhi incident. Liselle had spent the majority of her time moping around her apartment, often crawling out of bed on an average of two hours past the time at which she typically rose. She practiced her biotic jumps off the roof but was eventually stopped by one of her neighbors, who assaulted her with several premeditated words of verbal abuse; chatted with Daus sporadically via omni-tool messaging; and again visited Anthya one afternoon, although her elusive, mythical shift had finally arrived and cut their conversation short when she departed for the dressing room. And Liselle had managed to keep in contact with Rasma, who was willing to update her on Eingana's situation.

Though Rasma hadn't known the reason for Liselle's excursion, she had safely assumed it entailed sensitive personal business between her and Aria, whom Liselle had nearly embarrassed in front of her distinguished proponent, Sahra Igrahal. Aria had been forced to lie to her that Liselle had disappeared abruptly on her orders, having been reassigned to an emergency task. Fortunately Sahra Igrahal accepted the explanation without qualm, thoroughly deferring to Aria's vagaries out of the immense respect she had for her. The tours of her business began in Liselle's absence, but the evaluation of her affairs proved time-consuming and demanded that the review span over the course of multiple days instead of just one, and to also better accommodate the very busy Sahra Igrahal. Over those three days the remainder of Eingana had seen two factories and a business tower, as well as countless caches of data and receipts accumulated over the past few months. Nothing dubious or unusual among the seemingly infinite labyrinths of information caught their attention, however.

_I'm going to be honest with you,_ Rasma had told Liselle, _I wish we had your eyes right now._

To Rasma's confession Liselle had replied that she would like to travel back to Mazat to help them again, only for Rasma to remind the maiden that she could never do so without Aria's express permission. Liselle claimed that she needed nothing of the sort, and would only require forgiveness. Rasma was duly skeptical, but relinquished the location to Liselle at which they would meet with Sahra Igrahal that day in case she was successful.

It was fortunate, that Rasma did not seem to mind Liselle's apparent parentage. She wasn't shrinking away in fear while they communicated, instead remaining cordially authoritative. Liselle suspected that she had recently made peace with her discovery and resolved to carry on as Aria would have desired. The ideal cover for her knowledge, as well as Liselle's identity in general, was simply pretending that nothing had changed at all.

She wondered how Malak felt, and if he was particularly frightened of Liselle since their history was marred by instances of insults and even physical confrontation. He was probably trembling in his boots, but Liselle held no grudge. Above all other outcomes she greatly preferred they heal into camaraderie rather than entertaining notions of revenge. He was still an ally after all, and inflaming the situation would only prove counterproductive.

As for Liselle's determination to rejoin her team for their mission, she knew she could not violate the contract that now existed between herself and her mother. She would hurt her no more, avoiding it whenever she could, but she would also not allow Aria to hurt _her_. So she informed Aria of her blatant defiance that morning, filling out a declarative message containing her grievance and intent.

.

TO: ARIA T'LOAK  
FROM: LISELLE KASANTIS  
SUBJECT: I'm going

Since you want me to inform you of whether I'm fine, I'll do that. I'm going back into the Mazat District, to help Eingana see the mission through. I'm not going to sit back and let them go on without me. I'm not going to keep doing nothing at home. If you don't want me to do this, then you can send commandos after me to bring me back, or however you'll handle it. But it won't change the fact that I'm leaving right now.

.

Liselle sent her message and pulled on her new commando-issue bodysuit, feeling secure beneath the extra armor padding that protected the more vulnerable areas of her anatomy, and appreciating the way the angular planes of rust-hued leather dividing sections of coal-black material made her appear twice as formidable as she might have been in reality. The ensemble made her bearing severe; an individual who had seen battle before, no doubt, and became privy to what armor prolonged survival.

No reply found her omni-tool until Liselle had left home and sought a swift cab to her destination. During the ride she heard the chime of a message arriving at her inbox, prompting the girl to access the glowing projected screen and read Aria's response in the minimal light of the skycar interior.

.

TO: LISELLE KASANTIS  
FROM: ARIA T'LOAK  
SUBJECT: Re: I'm going

I've been in contact with Eingana recently. They feel that the functionality of their unit has significantly decreased upon losing one-third of their number, and their productivity would be better maintained if you were allowed to join them again. I asked them why they presumed me to be so lenient with defiant or troublesome agents. They claimed it was because you were useful to me. There was truth in their answer, though I'm uncertain of how much.

I will allow this. I will allow this not only because you're useful to me, but because I want to see this investment's returns. I don't care how capable you are. If you cannot follow my orders, there will be no work awaiting you once this conflict is resolved. My organization is perpetuated on order, on loyalty, on efficiency. There is no place for wild cards here, Liselle.

This is your final opportunity to demonstrate your value as an employable and dependable operative. I know it's within your abilities, and I want to see this play out well for you. Your future relies on what you decide to do with this chance.

Thank you for contacting me.

.

Liselle closed the mail client with a relieved sigh. She was almost certain that Aria would've sent someone after her as soon as she received Liselle's message, but yet again she had acquiesced to her daughter's wishes. It was so very strange to Liselle that she did, on so many occasions. Everyone who knew Aria could agree upon her being of a tenacious and demanding personality, and few were ever repeat recipients of her tolerance. Liselle was, of course, an exception. Aside from their points of contention Aria yielded to Liselle more than she did to any other living soul, as far as she knew. It truly was as Samesia had said, whilst on her deathbed; that Liselle had always been loved dearly by Aria, treated like a princess. Sealed away in her chambers and shielded from the world lying beyond their grim castle walls, while kept comfortable, spoiled with possessions, and inoculated with a sense of entitlement and being more than she was.

Her mind wandered to dangerous territories of speculation. Just how much would Aria let Liselle get away with? She always seemed ready to administer penalty whenever Liselle disobeyed her, but each time it arrived softer than she had originally designed, and sometimes it did not arrive at all, or was revoked before long. It was worth seriously pondering where Aria's limits lied. Liselle did not aspire to cross that line, but to fathom what acts might meet it sent a haunting chill down her neck.

Aria was so very eminent and glorious in everything she did. She was an icon among Omega's people, she was a clever war general and businesswoman with a supreme presence on her conquered station and the entire Sahrabarik system, which further served as an appreciable foothold in the Terminus Systems as a whole. For her to regularly defer to the wishes of Liselle was utterly humbling. Instead of making her feel on par with her mother it only made Liselle feel impossibly small, when held beside a character such as hers.

Liselle took the time to inform Rasma that she would indeed be joining them that afternoon. They received the news well, assuring her that she would arrive on time given her current location and the trip that still lied ahead of her. They were to meet in the lobby of one of Omega's rare hospitals, owned by Sahra Igrahal and of course, private, for-profit, and employing many skilled doctors. Even if Liselle lacked the proper coordinates, Rasma said, Liselle could never miss the structure. It was impressive, with a clean façade and bright green, glowing batarian lettering declaring the building's appellation, while the interior was well-lit, constantly maintained, and bustling with staff and those who could afford the medical expenses.

Rasma's description of the hospital starkly contrasted with Kiava Vathesa's ill-supplied destitute hovel, down to their very core natures.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Aria emerged into the cold, desolate room, striding through the darkness several paces before flicking on a switch that illuminated just one individual in its center, strapped down to a chair as equally harsh and pernicious as the bleak metal walls serving as his cage. She was immediately followed by Lieutenant Zuria and the batarian mercenary who had participated in the capture of Eruam Anikot. He carried a shallow bowl of food with him, eating from it in plain view of their starved yet lucid prisoner, who regarded the trio with molten hatred; the only defense available to him at the time, although tragically ineffective.

For three days Anikot had been confined to a cell much like this one, albeit alarmingly smaller, fitted with the most basic necessities, kept dark, and without access to any sustenance besides water. There he waited, formerly one of Aria's most exalted lieutenants and the owner of fine accommodations and valuables obtained on generous wages, now reduced to a lowly prey animal in a box, forced to be made vividly and increasingly aware of his own mortality with the passage of every hour. Aria wondered if he had pawed desperately at the walls, if the abrasion had ground the pads of his fingertips raw, or if his voice had cracked and grown hoarse over days spent shouting in futile despair. She profoundly hoped so.

A chair squealed along the floor as it was drawn up to Anikot and oriented backwards. Aria straddled the seat as she sat down and rested her forearms on its back, leaning forward to assess her prisoner and the sheer detest radiating from his leer. Behind her, Zuria and the assisting mercenary were setting up a few small tables with a terminal, simple recording devices, and various objects whose identities could not be descried through the dim light, but the metallic clicks they elicited upon being lain on the table were dreadfully ominous. As Aria examined Anikot, her face displayed no signs of reciprocated revulsion. Instead she appeared serene and composed, and that attitude further manifested in her voice when she finally addressed him, "How has the hospitality been, Eruam?"

He responded venomously, "Fuck you."

"That's no way to speak to your superiors," Aria chided him, still adhering to her maliciously false gentleness for a time. She could hardly maintain the ruse. To finally have a quarry as prized as Eruam Anikot had her body and mind positively quivering with excitement which had only heightened the longer she waited. After three fulls days spent denying herself access to her prisoner, having him right before her now threatened to vaporize all lingering self-restraint in an instant. She disclosed this feeling to him, speaking almost as if it were a sensual experience. "I've been waiting for this moment for too long," she drawled. "It's made me... _restless_ with anticipation. I just couldn't keep my mind off you."

To her remark Anikot responded with a vile batarian imprecation; one very familiar to Aria, as well as to the batarian mercenary assisting the interrogation. Although Zuria did not speak the common batarian tongue, the intended meaning of the curse was not lost to its translation. Anikot said to Aria lowly, imbuing his words with as much poison as he could summon from his famished, weakened body, _"May your children die and rot in your womb."_

It was, to Aria's extensive knowledge, the most offensive insult to a female in hegemonic batarian culture. It was not only a curse literally unto Aria's fertility and potentially existing or future children, but also unto her legacy as a whole—her name, her wealth, her syndicate, and her memory. Unfazed by the malediction, Aria reached into her pockets and produced a metal object before flicking out the blade hidden between its halves.

"You always did have a silver tongue, Eruam," she said. "I wonder if you'll still have it by the time we're done here."

Without remorse Aria lifted the knife and pressed it to Anikot's cheek, piercing the flesh with ease and dragging the blade down his face as her free hand held him steady. His pained hiss quickly peaked into a shout when the blade caught on one of his cartilaginous facial ridges, but was pulled through the obstacle nonetheless. Aria seemed to revel in the agony it caused him, admiring the sight of blood dripping down to his neck and channeling into thin streams within the rivets of flesh on his bare chest. She again demonstrated her legendary patience by rising from her seat and retreated back to her allies, leaving the object of her twisted fascination behind. There she shrugged out of her infamous white jacket and handed the precious clothing article over to Zuria, who folded it neatly and laid it carefully upon the table they worked at, keeping its leather clean of the blood that would inevitably run profusely by the end of the session.

While Aria spent another minute sifting through the indistinct metal objects neatly lain out for her perusal, the batarian mercenary amused himself by meandering over to Anikot, still enjoying the meal he brought with him, and taunting the prisoner by letting the bowl hover near his face. "Looks good, doesn't it?" he asked him, letting the scents of meat and spices waft by him. "Tastes even better."

Anikot attempted to spit in it, but the mercenary held the meal safely away and returned the gesture by brutally slamming one of his fists into his stomach, then again, until he coughed and gasped.

"Don't spoil him for me," Aria told her mercenary. She was examining something that glinted in the dimness, a smile creeping across her face as she did.

It was not ordinary for Aria to participate in an interrogation so personally. Traditionally Aria sat nearby, micromanaging the event with her orders while she observed, cruel and calculating, and assigning a larger proportion of her mental capacity to the task of processing the extracted information than to the bloodcurdling screams of the prisoner. This case was rare, unseen in decades. Aria simmered with spite and vengeance, unable to rest until her ravenous appetite had been sated. At her behest the mercenary returned to Zuria's side, allowing Aria's lithe and daunting figure to once again saunter forward into the ring of light. She reclaimed her seat, her arms and shoulders left exposed.

After recovering from the blows that left him panting and wincing, Anikot sneered at Aria, "I only regret not evading you long enough to see them kill you. I would've loved to see your head on a pike."

"Really?" she asked him, sounding mildly intrigued but ultimately unconcerned. She idly spun the knife she still held in her hand.

"All you ever did was _control_. You've never freed anyone in your damn life, no matter how much you try to tell Omega otherwise. You're a liar and a _disease_. I hope they take turns defiling your corpse."

Aria merely hummed in thought at the notion before replying, "I had something similar in mind for your own corpse, but I'm not that petty. No, that wouldn't be good enough for me. Because when I want a prize... I go for the biggest one." She leaned in close, holding her blade up and pressing it against the outer socket of his upper-left eye. A small bead of blood was drawn from its sharply-honed point, gliding down the silvery edge.

The implication caused Anikot immediate fear and alarm, though it swiftly transmuted into bitter hatred. "Go ahead, you sadistic bitch. Go ahead and have the gods curse you forever for the injustice."

A wicked smile spread across Aria's lips, placed there by his assumption. Thrilled by the opportunity, she leaned in a bit closer to him and lowered her voice to a near-whisper. "I've got news for you," she said, pulling the knife away from his face for a moment. "I've done this before, Eruam. You're no one special. You're not the first, and you're not the last. I've ran with batarian mobs. I've been good friends with many _Sah Vreshtoks._ I've been doing this since before some of your ancestors were even _born_ , since before I even conceived the idea of coming out here to Omega. No god has ever looked unkindly upon me, Eruam. And none ever will." Without warning she plunged the dagger into his right hand, spearing it to the armrest of the chair it was tied to.

Anikot cried out in agony, the sound piercing the dreary atmosphere of the chamber and causing Zuria to flinch from where she sat, further fraying her unsettled nerves. Just as the shout diminished it was resurrected again as a scream as Aria suddenly twisted the handle of the knife, gruesomely slicing through tendons and snapping bone while she looked on, memorizing and delighting in each contortion of abject pain crossing her prisoner's face. She retrieved her knife, mercilessly ripping through any flesh that might have hindered its path before transferring it to her other hand and performing the same treatment on Anikot's remaining appendage. Again the blade impaled his tissue and metacarpals, tearing yet another scream from his throat.

"I do not! Tolerate! _Traitors_ — _!"_ Aria snarled, her pale blue eyes wild with rage as she twisted the knife as she had done before, aspiring to inflict as much permanent damage and unbearable pain as possible. She _would_ have her satisfaction. He _would_ surrender to penitence, to the harrowing anguish and woe of having dared oppose her. This time, when she wrenched the blade upward, a splintered bone was pulled through the flesh and protruded from the glistening, bloody ribbons of Anikot's hand.

His cries of pain had devolved into panicked, incoherent exclamations. He shook as he stared in horror at his mangled hands, frantically conceding to Aria's treatment by pleading to her, "Stop! Gods, _stop!_ J-Just _stop!_ Ask me, I'll tell you whatever you want to know—!"

Aria calmly retrieved a cloth from her arsenal and wiped the blood from her knife until it shone clean. Nonchalantly, she decided to compose a reply for him while tending to the weapon, speaking chillingly alike a parent speaking to a child, "I know you don't want a painful death, Eruam." The knife was abandoned and her frigid gaze lifted to find his. "But I want my revenge. And I always get what I want."

Before another string of pleads reached her, Aria asked him abruptly, "Who recruited you?"

Every soul in the room knew the chance for some peace obtained through truthful answers was but an illusion of hope. The mercenary knew it, Zuria knew it, and Anikot knew it, though still he clung tightly to any chance at all to survive Aria T'Loak's wrath, no matter the dismal odds.

"T-The ones who tried killing you that day!" Anikot confessed. The blood pouring from his grisly wounds was brimming, dripping down the sides of the chair's arms and feeding tiny pools gathering on the floor. "They had been watching me, they knew I'd be sympathetic to their cause. They t-told me to wait, told me that they'd prove their group was the real thing. They told me what would happen, said that if I liked what I saw they'd let me join up! They told me about everything that would happen; Dar'nerah, Pasora, Aetius, all of them! And it all happened, just like they said it would! They offered me territory, and in exchange I made sure everything went smoothly when they went after you."

"What did you do?" Aria asked him, reaching for something he could not see.

Anikot did not hesitate to answer, fearing whatever she now possessed. "I poisoned the drink! And I guarded the restroom!"

"And who gave you the poison?"

"The agents who contacted me! They were disguised and never told me much, but they would have if everything had worked out..."

Aria rose from her chair, lifting one leg over the seat to round it. The former lieutenant now saw what she carried: a heavy maintenance hammer, large in her slender hands but wielded without encumbrance. "I think you're lying to me," she said. Aria gripped the haft securely before smashing the metal head against his knee, eliciting the same response she had before.

"I'm not lying!" Anikot cried. _"I'm not lying!"_

The hammer came down again, onto the top of his right thigh with enough biotically-augmented force to shatter bone. He shrieked, struggling in the chair even as Aria gripped him by the neck and faced him directly, saying, "Next time I'll aim a bit more to the left."

"They just mentioned one of their bases! A place where we were supposed to rendezvous at!"

Her hand tightened around his throat, her well-manicured fingernails shallowly piercing the skin. "Where?"

"Doru!" gasped Anikot. "Upper Doru! An eezo refinement plant!"

"I want coordinates!" Aria demanded.

"I d-don't remember! I deleted the information!"

The maintenance hammer clattered to the floor with a few thuds, freeing Aria's right hand to clench into a biotically-cloaked fist. "Then you'd better remember something." She slammed her fist into his face, the force resulting in an audible crack.

"I-I _can't!_ "

She hit him again, brutally splitting the flesh of his cheek open. The blows did not relent. Anikot was struck again and again each time he failed to provide information, his face quickly growing slick and shiny with streams of blood spouting from the ruptures and wounds inflicted upon his countenance. Any vocalizations he made were slurring into pathetic sobs and desperate whimpers, whether they were attempts to coherently plead for her to stop or cries for gods that would not answer him.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

When Liselle stepped foot into the hospital's lobby, she was greeted by bright, sterile white lights that caused her to wince from being so accustomed to Omega's fiery evening hues. She went partially blind for a several seconds before her eyes adjusted gradually, providing her with a view of the many armchairs lining the walls and those arranged around footrests doubling as tables. Many were occupied. Beyond them was front desk, at which a friendly batarian receptionist sat. When she observed the way Liselle strode into the building with evidence of disorientation etched into her features, she inquired once the girl wandered close enough to be accosted, "Hello, welcome. Do you have an appointment?"

Liselle turned to face the receptionist, her eyes a bit wide with surprise at having been addressed. She faced the desk and took a single step closer to reply, "Oh, um, no. I'm just waiting for a few of my... associates. I'm supposed to meet them, and Sahra Igrahal."

The receptionist seemed to be aware of the impending visit, judging by the recognition arising in her four eyes. "Ah, yes, of course. Were you to meet in any particular wing? I can provide directions, if you require them."

She shook her head. "No, thank you. We were to meet in the main lobby, assuming that's right here."

"It is. Feel free to have a seat anywhere you like, and there are food and drink dispensers down that hall there and restrooms right nearby them." She gestured to indicate the direction.

Liselle chose a seat isolated from those awaiting their appointments. She discreetly surveyed them, although she was careful not to make eye contact. There was a salarian who held a white cloth to his forehead, visibly stained with old blood and likely to be an individual requiring stitches, or an assessment for a concussion. The turian woman seated near a potted fern periodically coughed and wheezed into a rag and consequently broke the otherwise uniform silence, while an uncomfortable batarian man was afflicted by an outlandish red hue in his skin that suggested a rather painful rash. Most were accompanied by an escorting ally or two, perhaps to provide protection during the journey to the hospital to keep muggers away from the vulnerable targets they appeared to be. But when in the hospital itself, Liselle doubted their presence was needed any longer. Armed guards were stationed like stone sentinels at the entrances and hallways; a trait that reliably indicated a successful and professional enterprise on Omega.

She was impressed by the establishment. It was clean, modern, and seemed to attract plenty of clientele, who served as a testament to the quality of health and medical care available to whomever had the credits.

As she waited, Liselle sent a message to Rasma to ascertain their current location and at what time they expected to arrive. Rasma promptly answered, assuring Liselle that they were passengers in a private cab only a few kilometers away, and would join her in less than five minutes if the level of traffic remained consistent over the remainder of the flight. Liselle relaxed in her armchair for that specified amount of time, listening to intercom messages calling patients to their appointments and peering with curiosity at each person who came into the lobby, entertaining herself by trying to identify their respective ailments. After seeing an unfortunate elcor with a dark, bulbous growth overtaking half his face lumber into the lobby, Liselle felt acutely grateful for her own good health and vowed to empty her cabinets of some of the junk food she routinely stashed there.

At last the rest of her party arrived through the main entrance. Sahra Igrahal led Malak and Rasma, as well as two personal guards, into the hospital while in the middle of a lengthy exposition about the work involved in transforming the building from its lowly roots as a small clinic into the profitable tower it was today. She was clad in blue silks and ornamented immodestly with jewelry, always professing her wealth and importance. There was little wonder as to why she admired Aria as much as she did. While the patients eyed the newcomers warily, Liselle rose to greet them.

"Ah, there she is," said Sahra Igrahal, ending her rant to receive Liselle. "Our helpful asari agent Lisette."

"Liselle, Sahra," she quietly corrected her.

"As I said. I take it that your unexpected mission went well enough?"

"Yes, Sahra," said Liselle. "Everything went as planned."

The maiden was briskly absorbed by the group, and the tour began. Her team issued her welcoming nods, although Malak seemed far more friendly toward her than Liselle could ever recall, evidenced by the way he complimented her new attire. The sour scent of chemicals and disinfectants soon found them.

"This hospital was founded approximately fifty years ago," Sahra Igrahal explained as they started down one of the long halls lined with rooms and elevators. Occasionally they passed framed paintings depicting assemblies of harmonized color and abstract shapes. "During, as I refer to it, my entrepreneurial debut. Our health services are available every hour of every day, of every year. We also offer transportation services for those who have no ride available to them from their location of emergency. The staff and clientele is multiracial, drawing talented physicians and doctors from all over the Terminus Systems, as well as the Attican Traverse in numerous cases. I would consider my establishment galaxy-class if asked, justified by the sheer diversity of procedures and treatments we administer on a yearly basis, as well as the quality of said procedures and patient satisfaction. The partial reason why we are so successful, I've come to believe, is derived from the fact that we are far removed from archaic notions of medical science that mire say, Council space, in misconceptions and erroneous treatments prescribed by dusty politicians who know nothing about the fields they are regulating. Healthcare is beholden to _status quo_ there, while in the Terminus Systems doctors are often scientists as well instead of sentient, outdated textbooks. Our patients are currently undergoing modern procedures that'll take a century for other galactic regions to approve."

They all briefly filed into a single line against one wall as a few medics hastily transported an incapacitated patient on a stretcher down the hall, their shoes lightly squeaking against the spotless floors when they rounded a corner.

"We comprise multiple wings suited for separate branches of medical care," Sahra Igrahal continued, unaffected by the scene. "We offer the full spectrum of basic to complex care. Infections, surgeries, transplants, implants, vaccinations, maternal care, pediatrics, cosmetics... If there is a field we have not yet conquered, we shall shortly. I will now deliver you to the office at which secretaries conduct our record keeping. There you will be granted complete access to the database and are free to peruse it as much as you like."

"Will there be any issues of breaching patient confidentiality?" Rasma inquired.

Sahra Igrahal scoffed in amusement. "When it's Aria's investigation, there is no such thing anymore."

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Aria was alight with a fury so hot and bright it greatly pained Zuria to watch. She had seen Aria in so many situations with so many people, and believed she had witnessed more of the spectrum containing the full range of Aria's personage, than anyone currently alive. She had seen Aria's affection when she had knelt before a teary-eyed Liselle years ago when she was still a young girl, sweetly kissed her cheek and held her hands, all while gentle words of endearment lined her lips. And Zuria had seen the vulnerable agony in Aria's eyes when she had lied in bed after being poisoned, her complexion gravely pale and her body wracked by terrible shivers as Havlon and his assistants pulled her from the precipice of death.

But of all the variegated sides of Aria she had witnessed, this side was, without the faintest semblance of doubt, the most horrendous, the most disturbing, and the most illustrative of what unfathomable cruelty lurked within her body, and there was nothing Aria could ever say or do to receive Zuria's complete forgiveness. It was a permanent scar upon their relationship—one that would never heal, never fade, regardless of how much they had been through together over the past two centuries. Regardless, even, of what they were in actuality; the administrators of a massive crime syndicate, bound by policies of ruthless cunning and shrewd business, always running with Omega's most heartless as they added to their mountains of ill-gotten credits, weapons, and narcotics. Was it even within reason to object to this practice, while Zuria readily participated in so many others?

A surge of dizziness suffused her head, forcing Zuria to close her eyes as she weathered through it, but no matter how hard she wished them away, Eruam Anikot's screams scarred the oblivion of her sightless reprieve, warping and corrupting the darkness of her otherwise peaceful world into a nightmarish landscape.

For a time, Zuria feared that Aria would kill Anikot before she received her fill of information. When she finally allowed the batarian to emerge from the relentless beating to speak, Zuria realized that she was terribly unsure if him still being alive was fortunate or not. He was doused in his own blood, and the restraints around his wrists had been pulled taut to serve as tourniquets for what lacerated shreds remained in place of his hands.

"All I remember was the refinement plant being previously abandoned!" He wailed, his words slurring with impediment wrought by injury. "There was an accident, a big one, a chemical explosion!"

Aria briefly sent a glance over her shoulder to address Zuria. "Look it up!" she ordered.

Zuria obeyed. Her fingers shook at they stumbled over the projected keyboard, opening an extranet browser to search several key words that might lead them to the correct incident. Before long she discovered an old article matching the description Anikot had provided. "There was some media coverage," she reported. "Happened about four years ago. About twenty people died when a chemical tank exploded, including the owner's son. It was shut down, but it looks like the property was eventually purchased by Drialus Lorhan."

An expression of disgust crossed Aria's face. "I had a feeling Lorhan would be involved in this. He's one of few who could provide the trade routes and credits for these people, funding their equipment and weapons. I want people on him constantly, Zuria. Make it happen."

"Right away," she said, opening the interface of her omni-tool and issuing the order to the pertinent agents.

While she did so Aria returned her attention to Anikot, drew her switchblade again, flicked out the knife, and began carving something into his chest. Anikot cried out weakly as the awful, burning sting plagued him, winding and curving as multiple characters were left behind. Aria withdrew a single step to review her work. Across his chest garishly read her own name in asari script, seeping deep crimson and proclaiming both victory and ownership of the one before her. Satisfied, Aria lowered herself into her chair again, wrapped her hands around Anikot's throat, and held him still as blackness flooded her eyes.

She ripped his secrets from him, burning everything in her wake as she went. Consuming, pillaging, tormenting—all while he breathed frantically and thrashed to no avail. His consciousness was aflame in the heat of her passionate wrath, layer by layer, until his knowledge had been stripped away like strata of flesh and muscle seared by the inferno, all the way to blackening bones.

When she emerged from the meld her focus remained intact, allowing Aria to inform her allies without delay, "He's telling the truth."

Aria released him to turn her body in the direction of Zuria and the mercenary, looming there in the darkness with the light at her back edging her figure, causing the fresh blood smeared over her hands and forearms to luridly glisten, and her features to appear dire and sinister as the shadows pooled in them. "Zuria," she said.

The lieutenant responded with caution. "Yes...?"

"Come here."

Zuria remained frozen in her seat for a time, dreading to surmise what Aria intended for her. As much as she may have wanted to remain stationed at the terminal, she knew refusing Aria's order was impossible. She rose, her limbs rigid and her eyes bright and alert with fear. As Zuria approached she deliberately prevented her gaze from resting upon the despondent body of Eruam Anikot, instead keeping her eyes locked with Aria's up until the point when she felt her slip the handle of the knife into her fingers. Wordlessly, Aria held a hand out to the empty chair beside them, bidding Zuria to take a seat. When she did, Aria stood behind her, leaning down just enough to quietly direct her lieutenant, "Take out his eyes."

To Zuria it felt as though all the blood in her face had dropped away and curdled. She could hear Anikot beginning to tremulously whisper over and over, "No, no, _no—!"_ in reaction to Aria's decree, as not even he had anticipated the Queen being so wicked as to mutilate a batarian who yet lived in such a manner. Naturally, Zuria slowly turned to Aria and regarded her with a blend of disbelief and horror.

"You and your new allies weren't above doing it to Olat Dar'nerah," Aria said to Anikot, her jaw held stiffly as she ignored the look Zuria was casting her. "And now it's time to return the favor. Unlike countless others, I come to the aid of my allies. I maintain excellent standing through courtesies like this. It's just business, Eruam. It's just business." Her final statement was directed at her lieutenant, "Do it now."

Zuria looked down at the knife in her hand, then finally up at Anikot, who was still desperately uttering his mantra of _no, no, no_. Over the few seconds she spent reconciling herself with the atrocity she was about to commit, her breathing had grown shallow, and the swirling nausea had begun percolating her head and stomach anew.

She knew the act went beyond the avenging of Dar'nerah. Aria had not said so, but she desired revenge for what had been done to herself as well. She had nearly perished because of Anikot's betrayal, and had endured several days of torturous, bedridden agony following her brush with death. Aria had every right to take his life. But not like this, Zuria thought. Not like this, as she peered at the broken man before her, glazed in his own blood and begging for the embrace of an eternal sleep to release him from this worldly perdition.

Her world was spinning, splitting into ghastly double images as she shook her head and held the blade's handle out in Aria's general direction. A hand clutched at her forehead as she breathed, "I can't do it, Aria. I'm not... I'm not feeling well."

Aria snatched the knife away from her. "Then get the hell out of my way," she said, lifting the lieutenant by the arm and removing her from the chair.

Zuria staggered away, retreating to one wall to brace a hand against, balancing herself as she endured the interminable waves of illness washing over her. When the screams erupted, her nausea peaked. She hunched over and vomited. Her vision was a blur. She heard Aria ordering her mercenary to remove her from the room, and soon felt him drape one of her arms around his shoulders to escort her away from the scene.

It was a mistake on her part to steal a final glance at Aria to apprehend the reason why Anikot had so suddenly stopped screaming. Aria had swiftly completed her malevolent deed with a well-practiced hand, and with one last swipe of her blade Anikot's throat had been carved open, gaping and spilling forth what remained of his life.

Now alone, Aria stepped back to watch the traitor gurgle helplessly as his lungs were flooded by his own blood, as consciousness left him, and as his presence was rendered officially inanimate. She breathed deeply and slowly, her bared shoulders lightly rising and falling, and eventually the constant overflow of tension and rage dissipated from her muscles.

Aria had obtained her satisfaction, and deemed the transaction complete. Dar'nerah's pirate fleet would be notified that retribution had been exacted in their name just as much as it had been in Aria's, and she seriously began contemplating sending them the cadaver as a trophy or token of lasting relations between the fleet and her syndicate. It was a fine idea, since she had no use at all for the dead.

There was much still needing to be done. Spies needed to be mobilized to reconnoiter the refinement plant, her forces needed to be organized into assault formations once said spies returned with their assessment of the situation, and the councilor needed to be updated expressly. If Aria continued to play the board well, there was a considerable possibility of securing a major victory by the end of the week.

Still positioned at the edge of the ring of light, Aria reached into a small compartment attached to the back of her belt and retrieved a lighter and a black-papered batarian cigarette. She placed it between her lips, and with a few flicks of the lighter a healthy yellow flame was born, briefly warming the cold darkness of the room. The end was lit. After the first drag Aria gradually turned on one heel and began to pensively pace, folding a gore-stained arm across her waist while her other hand held her cigarette insouciantly aloft. The only sounds to be heard were produced by her slow strides as her boots connected with the metal floor, and by the droplets of blood still periodically beading and dripping from the dead man in the chair, both echoing into annihilating silence.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Eingana was led into the office Sahra Igrahal had described. It was a comfortable space; carpeted, fitted with cushioned chairs set before the rows of desks where terminals hibernated, and against the window there stood a table where food could be placed by the staff to share amongst themselves while they spent the day filing away countless patient records into the archives. Their escort approached a crescent-shaped desk at the front of the office and spent a moment at each of its three terminals, unlocking them with her executive access codes. When she was finished, Sahra Igrahal stepped aside and held out a hand to permit and bade their approach. Eingana did so. Each member of the trio took a seat at one of the terminals and were greeted by the hospital's minimalistic homepage, where an ornate logo proudly displayed at the center of the white screen, and beneath it lied multiple links that would filter the information they sought to one wing in specificity. The text was by default in batarian script, which Liselle could read to some extent, but remained far more comfortable with asari common. Fortunately, the text could easily be translated with a language menu residing in one corner of the screen.

"Please, let me know if you have any questions or come across something warranting my attention," Sahra Igrahal told them as she and her guards began to retreat to the door. "I shall be back shortly. I need to have a word with the staff. These lights are migraine-inducing..."

Upon her departure, Eingana was left to begin their clerical duties. It was no small task. That was made apparent the moment Liselle accessed the first page of records, which were void of any apparent flags that differentiated one patient's medical history from another's. The files seemed to go on forever. Rasma seemed to encounter an identical problem, soon halting them to devise a strategy before proceeding.

"All right, this is going to be impossible if we don't split up the work and narrow things down a bit," she said, immediately receiving looks of agreement from her unit. "I know you weren't here last time, Liselle, but when we were visiting the factories and business tower we hunted through anything that could be remotely suspicious, but our efforts ultimately revolved around looking for one central thing: the vanhis toxin, and evidence of Igrahal using it against Aria or anyone affiliated with her. We already know she was buying it from Vathesa, but we don't know what _for_. As of right now we can't accuse her of anything, and the last thing we'd want to do is insult her on false grounds. If we're going to hit her with anything, it has to be solid, irrefutable. So, Malak... How about you search for cases of—I don't know—poisonings? I suppose I'll sift through surgeries and transplants... Who knows, maybe organs or muscle tissue can be permanently damaged by the toxin's effects. And Liselle, you take on prescriptions."

They heeded her advice and began typing away, lifting their fingers to navigate the pages with swipes and languid curls while scrolling through the myriad accounts. If she were not participating in a most vital investigation, Liselle might have indulged her curiosity by pausing to read through some of the more unusual cases the hospital had treated, as there was no shortage of them on Omega. The countless methods one might employ to assassinate someone never failed to astound her. After spending nearly fifteen minutes digging through the database, Rasma spoke again, evidently having stumbled across something worth mentioning.

"There's some interesting stuff going on here," she commented, the light emitted by the terminal gathering in the grooves of her facial plating drawn into an expression of intense focus. "Igrahal buys organs for transplants on the regular... Nothing weird there, but she's also getting them from her own patients. Purchasing them. I've got a whole folder filled with receipts."

"It's probably a harvesting ring," Malak suggested, although he sounded nonchalant.

"Probably," agreed Rasma with equal dismissal, her voice succumbing to distraction while she analyzed the information.

The motions of Liselle's fingers had stilled at the conclusion they had drawn. She was more disturbed at the discovery than both of them combined, and a cursory gaze darted between their faces for a few seconds before she spoke up, "Is that... something Aria's okay with?"

Malak raised a brow at her, likely puzzled by the ignorance exhibited by Aria's own offspring. "Well, yeah," he said simply. "It's just business."

At her lasting consternation, Rasma stole Liselle's attention from him. "If you want the longer version, Liselle, it's that Aria doesn't _intervene_. I've been working in intelligence affairs for years and I can tell you that it's not one of Aria's enterprises. Same thing with slavery. You'll find it here and there on Omega, but she neither curbs nor advocates any of it. Like everything else that doesn't impede her own expansion or business, Aria's content to stay out of it."

Liselle's concerns were not alleviated, but she privately confessed that her opinion on the matter was inchoate at best. Organ harvesting was certainly a grisly business, especially in those rings where donors were the involuntary sort. She profoundly hoped they were not presently dealing with that particular ilk of harvesters. But like all other Omegan pastimes and customs, whether innocuous or malign, no control could rightfully be exerted over the practice, not by anyone, not even Aria. Though it was comforting, at least, to know that Aria wasn't an active participant in the trade. Liselle unconsciously swiveled about in her chair as she typed, having grown anxious.

"All right," Malak announced at length. He reclined in his seat and rolled the stiffness out of his neck. "I've got something. I found a case of poisoning associated with the vanhis biotoxin. Here are the symptoms the doctors recorded: shock, body-wide pain and muscle cramping, heart palpitations, severe pallor. How does that sound, Liselle?"

She nodded without hesitation, her eyes growing wide. She had even stopped swiveling her chair to donate her full attention to Malak's findings. "That's _exactly_ what happened to Aria," said Liselle. "All of it."

"Okay..." He continued reading the file. "So, when they did the blood work on this guy to figure what was poisoning him, they isolated the protein as... nepenthamine, found in the Khar'shan-native vanhis. They were able to treat the patient, and once he was conscious again they determined that he had been exposed to the chemical through... through an overdose? How the hell can you overdose on a _poison_ , let alone want to take it in the first place? Was he suicidal or something?" He scrolled through the file, searching for an elaboration.

Liselle instantly began working at her terminal again. "Maybe it's because the toxin isn't _always_ a poison," she said, silently thanking her mother and Iaera for forcing her to completely read through her textbooks despite the overly dramatic anguish it used to cause her.

_My daughter will not be an idiot_ , Aria had once said when Liselle complained about her assigned readings. _You_ will _be on par with entry level university students by the end of your forties_.

Back then Aria's demands seemed exorbitant and unreasonable. In the present, Liselle could not have been more grateful.

Upon opening a new window to search the extranet and keying in _nepenthamine_ , Liselle was greeted by an encyclopedic page containing far more scientific jargon than she could ever decipher, but from the lengthy paragraphs she was able to glean enough information to provide an executive summary for the rest of her unit. "Nepenthamine is almost universally deadly in any amount exceeding half a milliliter," she reported, "but when administered safely in minute doses that vary with the species of the recipient, nepenthamine can act as a powerful analgesic. A painkiller." She looked up to meet the vastly interested eyes of Rasma and Malak. "Sahra Igrahal must be prescribing it to patients."

"Who's receiving it?" Rasma asked without delay. "Try to search it. We _need_ to find out who's receiving it. If we can get those names, we might find someone who's been smuggling it out."

They did as she commanded, filtering their lists of cases by entering the name of the chemical and only viewing files that involved its usage.

"I'm getting people exclusively from the transplant department," Rasma announced. "The painkiller likely has properties particularly effective on internal injuries. I'm no scientist, but that would be my best guess, except..."

"They're all donors," hollowly said Liselle, once she had accessed the same page Rasma was currently reviewing.

"Right," she said. " _Serial_ donors."

Malak folded his arms across his chest, still peering at the information glowing on his screen. "This shit is perfect for chronic pain, the painkiller I mean. No addictions. And when someone does develop a dependency, it's easily broken in a few days. But, yeah, serial donors... Huh, never knew salarians had three livers."

"They don't," coldly said Rasma, leaving his joke to wither for its ill timing and taste. "I've seen this before. It's an old trade and it's not liable to go anywhere anytime soon. I'm not intimately familiar with it, since Aria's never really had an altercation with any of these rings. But I know they use the same procedure as they do when synthetically growing limbs that match the genetics of the maimed patient. With organs, they'll open up the subject, grab some sample cells, integrate them with stems, graft the tissue in, and wait a couple months. In the Terminus Systems you'll find at least two major rings like this on every populous world. If the toxin's leaving the hospital, it's through these people."

"Never mind all that," said Malak, intent on dismissing the finer details of the situation to make room for the task at hand. "We have to go check out that wing and take a look at these donors." He pushed himself up from his chair. "I say we pay these poor fuckers a visit. If we're lucky we might scare our toxin smuggler so badly he'll shit out his second spleen."

"Hold up there, Lekahn," Rasma cautioned him. "We still need to be smart about this. We can't just outright assume that one of the patients is smuggling the toxin. We're just one team out of almost a dozen who were tasked with evaluating Vathesa's customers. It was inevitable that we would find the toxin being used for _something_ , since Igrahal bought it in the first place, but that doesn't necessarily mean there's any foul play here."

"Oh yeah? It's been days since they've been sent out and no one's found anything. They all got day trips while Aria assigned us this _tycoon_. If anyone else was going to find anything, they would've by now. This is all on us. _We're_ supplying all the leads, my friends. If things keep going as they've been, I'm in for a fantastic job once this is over and I'm not gonna pass that up by resigning myself to failure."

The turian sighed in frustration, glaring lethally at his shameless self-interest. "Just don't manufacture anything if we come up empty-handed. You'll get killed over that, trust me."

Once they had saved copies of their findings to their omni-tools, Eingana emerged from the office to await the return of Sahra Igrahal. Liselle noted that the lights had indeed dimmed over the time they spent in the office, now shining at intensities far more accommodating to the common Omega denizen's inured preference for relative darkness. Sahra Igrahal and her guards reappeared again before long, and she wasted no time in asking Rasma if her unit had successfully accessed and evaluated the records they were interested in.

"We did, thank you," she cordially said. "And now we'd very much appreciate it if you could direct us to your organ donor patients."

Surprisingly, Sahra Igrahal was completely comfortable with the request. "Of course, of course, please follow me and I shall personally take you to them. Did you have any questions regarding them?" They started their migration to the specified wing of the hospital.

"We do, actually. Can you tell us a bit more about them?"

"Certainly. They are all under contract, and the negotiated terms are often unique for each case. They arrive here, undergo the necessary procedures, and they remain here. Hospital housing is always a benefit I kindly offer these people, who are almost always impoverished, homeless, or in great need of compensation to keep creditors at bay. Here they have access to shelter, amenities, protection, food, and regular health examinations. To some, it's a fantastic deal. They are, essentially, tenants until the terms of the contract are fulfilled, and meanwhile I take great care in making sure their needs are met. A healthy host produces a healthy organ, after all."

The group piled into an elevator. The fourth floor was selected from the side panel, the doors glided shut, and they began to ascend.

"Are there any cases of the patients leaving the hospital before the terms of their contract are met?" asked Rasma.

"None which I can recall."

"How about instances where they might breach contract, such as stealing medical supplies? Maybe smuggling their painkillers out to sell for extra credits?"

Sahra Igrahal laughed at the query, finding at least a portion of it absurd. "I can assure you that the painkillers never leave the hands of those prescribed them. You see, they're a daily necessity in their lives, taken every morning with their first meal of the day. If they ever deprived themselves of their daily dosage... sometimes the pain is _acute_. A few months ago I had a patient who forgot his dosage and started screaming within a few hours. He never made the same mistake again, of course."

"By why; the pain, that is?" Rasma curiously inquired as they left the elevator, stepping out onto a new floor.

"New technology," answered Sahra Igrahal. "We incorporate the finest engineering in our investments. The organs are rapid-growing, with the smaller ones only taking a few weeks to mature and become fully functional. The side effect is, unfortunately, a great of deal of pain. But we have completely obviated that problem with nepenthamine; a chemical extracted from a plant found on my homeworld, ordinarily poisonous in larger doses. I procure this chemical from a variety of sources, some local and some imported, in order to stay well-stocked for the sake of my patients. They're quite content. Anyway, here we are. You are very much welcome to interview any of the donors you like. I'm sure they can all attest to everything I've told you."

Sahra Igrahal and Rasma continued their discussion while Malak and Liselle lingered a few paces behind, studying their surroundings and peering through the apertures of opened rooms with shrewd interest. By appearance, not one of the patients they managed to spy seemed to be ailing, nor subject to any amount of detectable discomfort. They were living lives of relative leisure, Liselle judged by the way they were free to mill about the halls as they pleased, congregate with one another, and entertain themselves with vids and casual games. Their fair living conditions nearly convinced Liselle that Sahra Igrahal's practice was not as insidious as she originally believed.

Liselle temporarily ceased her obsessive watching when Malak stopped her in her tracks, holding out his omni-tool with a smile on his face. "Hey Liselle," he said, "you _have_ to see what my old brothers back with the fleet just sent me."

She issued him a look of skepticism, wondering what she and a circle of rugged batarian pirates could possibly have in common and consequentially enjoy together. Liselle decided to humor him, however, and looked over to the display projected from his forearm. What she saw caused her to visibly pale a few shades and develop a small rictus of horror. It was a batarian—dead, undoubtedly—covered in deep maroon sheets of drying blood and bearing gashes and marks of bludgeoning on his eyeless face. Liselle averted her gaze instantly with a repulsed exclamation of, "Holy _shit—!_ Who... Who _is_ that?"

"It's that fucker, Anikot!" Malak proudly informed her. He was grinning widely.

"W-What _happened?"_

" _Aria_ happened," he once again made no attempt to conceal the disport he achieved from viewing the image. "Yes! _This_ is the good news we've been waiting for! No one fucks with us, not with Dar'nerah, and not with Lekahn. That bastard got everything he deserved, kid. What a good day. What fucking _fantastic_ day. I'm sending this to everyone I know. I hope it makes the rounds. I hope one of our enemies sees it and shits their pants once they realize what they've gotten themselves into and who's coming for them. We're fighting back! We're fighting back _hard_."

While Malak began taking a few long strides forward to traverse the distance they had put between themselves and the rest of the group, Liselle remained stationary, still shocked by what she had seen. She'd seen Anikot before, in person, but she would have never recognized his corpse if Malak hadn't informed her of who it was. He'd been beaten beyond recognition, as if a demon had grabbed hold of him and dealt horrendous atrocities before he died. Liselle had previously known that the date of his interrogation was nigh, just as she had known from Zuria's disclosure the brutality one could suffer depending on their trespass, but never had she expected to see something so awful and gut-wrenching. Unable to prevent herself from entertaining wonders of who had been the one to inflict this level of monstrous hatred on another living person, Liselle prayed it had not been her mother. She _prayed_ , to whatever gods or cosmic force might have governed the universe, requesting their forgiveness for never having believed in their existence before and solemnly vowing to acknowledge them henceforth if they provided her with the smallest shred of evidence testifying that it had indeed not been Aria.

She _knew_ Aria. She could be harsh, spiteful, and vengeful, but she was not _cruel._ Not like this. Never like this.

Liselle took a few uneasy steps forward as she silently despaired. It was only by chance that she had decided to peer into the room at her left, past the ajar door and the dimness that found the light of the hall pouring within adequate to its owner's desires. The room was occupied by a figure seated on a chair—a wheelchair, Liselle descried by the soft glint of metal wheels.

They were excessively robed. Every stretch of their body was obscured by scarves and blankets in addition to their highly conservative style of attire, ensuring superlative privacy to the point where Liselle could spot no distinctive anatomical characteristics that might reveal their race to her. They were hidden from her, utterly. When she allowed her gaze to rise she witnessed their meditative stare sent through the horizontal blinds fitted over their window, endlessly surveying the ominous red glow of Omega.

The maiden dared to tread a final step forward, taking advantage of the individual's distraction to better view their face. She could faintly perceive their complexion; a pale lavender, smooth, but the hood drawn up closely over their skull left no space for an asari crest to fill. The person was like nothing Liselle had ever seen before. Entranced by the mysterious patient, who seemed immune to her presence, Liselle remained there trying to penetrate the filter of darkness with naught but determination.

They moved. With startling, mechanical exactitude driving the motion, their head turned to face Liselle's direction, slowly, calmly, and silently. A pair of eyes found hers, hauntingly white to Liselle's perception and slanted, luminous. No expression was discernible.

The inscrutable look Liselle was bestowed afflicted her with the strangest sensation she had ever known. It chilled her to the bone as disquiet poured into her veins, inspiring her legs to propel her forward at once if only to escape the terrifying presence in that dark room.

It felt as if she had looked into the visage of a ghost.


	26. The Art of Wine

Two bottles of wine stood upon the councilor's glass table, albeit denied direct glass-to-glass contact by a protective white silky cloth spread beneath them. They had been opened some time ago—Aria's Caeran 2042 vintage, and Tevos's Armali Rosewater plucked from its ideal aging peak of just fifteen years—and sampled by their owners once Aria had exchanged her C-Sec disguise for her preferred borrowed attire. The Caeran was dry, deeply red, and savory; while the Rosewater was sweet and emitted a floral fragrance detectable whenever one's nose approached the lip of the glass. Both were desirable selections for the night, having been exorbitantly purchased for thousands of credits each.

As per Thessian custom Tevos had taken some time to prepare a simple plate of canapés, honoring her home region's traditional, minimalistic morsels consisting of a dry thin bread base, a layer of lightly marinated raw fish, and a modest garnishing of herbs over a fruit paste. The time she spent on them earlier was, to Tevos's optimism, a rare but entertaining exercise of both crafting and culinary skills, and she was pleased by Aria's reception. A first taste for mere courtesy became a nonchalant second, a discreet third, and within the first half hour Aria had taken the plate largely for herself along with a tall glass of wine.

After they had settled in, Aria rose from her seat and began to pace about Tevos's main sitting room, veneered in the golden tint of evening lamp-light. She spoke of recent events, sipping from her second glass as she delineated the sheer excitement thundering through her veins and preventing her from keeping still. Tevos was left to spectate from her position on her loveseat, with her legs curled onto the dark cushions for comfort.

"I'm..." Aria paused to search for an accurate term, " _electrified_ with anticipation. I can feel it everywhere, in the tips of my fingers, crawling along my skin. We're _this_ close to capturing a leader or an agent who can direct us to one. The raid only needs to be remotely successful for that, Tevos. _Remotely_. And we'll have them, we'll have them all. I'm restless." Seeing a familiar expression arise on the councilor's face that preluded a cautioning, Aria spoke first, though she smiled involuntarily as she did. "Don't try to stop me, Tevos. You won't be able to. Don't try to impede me. Because if you do I will run you right over— _that_ is how I feel about this."

For a time Tevos perceived her, deciding to refrain from speaking once Aria had clarified her adamancy. Whenever Aria became this patently determined, there truly was no stopping her; at least, not without a great deal of effort and tact. She seemed almost rapturous, and perhaps excessively for the moment. Curious, Tevos ventured to ask her, "Was that your second glass?"

Aria postponed her pacing to lower her gaze to the minimal contents remaining at the bottom of her glass. She ascertained the purpose of Tevos's question and responded with a proud scoff. "It was. And so what? I can hold my drink just fine. Don't be so quick to ascribe my words to that weak wine of yours."

With a faintly amused shake of her head Tevos said to her, "It's not at all weak, I assure you. And these aren't small glasses."

To defiantly prove her tolerance Aria strode over to the table, wrapped her fingers around the neck of the dry Caeran vintage, and filled her glass back to capacity. She lifted her drink in Tevos's direction to tauntingly emulate a toast before bringing it to her lips and swallowing down a generous portion.

Tevos rolled her eyes at her pride, still smiling. "All right. But so far you've only been expressing how excited you are, and you haven't disclosed a fragment of actual data or evidence to me. I think it'd be wise to show me now, before either of us drinks any more. I don't want to feel as though I were on a boat." She leaned over to gently place her glass on a square side table to her right, then held out a hand to beckon Aria toward her.

A brow was raised at the proposal. "So you were serious earlier, when you suggested we start melding for this?" Aria inquired. She wasn't at all opposed to it, but only remained dubious of Tevos's commitment to the notion. Still she approached, setting her glass down as well before taking a seat beside the councilor once she temporarily moved her legs away from the second cushion.

"Well, yes," Tevos replied, retracting her hand only to first reorient herself in Aria's new direction. "I was hesitant, initially. But I've run out of viable reasons to oppose it. Melding makes things vastly easier, safeguards against miscommunication and interception... I like the idea for its efficiency. Think of it as your opportunity to have me understand why you're _quivering_ with excitement."

After eyeing her with intrigue for a few seconds, Aria silently agreed. She reached out for Tevos's offered hand, wrapping her fingers around her wrist as Tevos reciprocated the same motion, effectively establishing a stable physical bridge between their bodies across which they would become neurologically fused. Tevos found that the familiarity of the touch made it easier to amalgamate herself with Aria over the first founding moments of the meld, where they settled into the warm waters of their oneness and distinctly sorted their identities out to address the purpose for the union.

Aria immersed her in the information she procured. The enemy's base—no, an element zero refinement plant, abandoned but recently purchased by a rich turian businessman by the name of Lorhan. Spies were being sent forth to inspect the area and the plant itself, to obtain necessary intelligence and security for the inevitable assault that would take it in Aria's name. They had already reported something back, just hours ago; a multitude of heat signatures detected within the refinement plant, as well as visual confirmation of armored agents spied at a distance through the windows. It was populated and functional, with absolute certainty. Before Aria arrived on the Citadel she had begun organizing her forces and briefed both Lieutenants Renaga and Zuria on their involvement during the siege. Zuria, her right-hand, would remain behind to guard Afterlife while Aria and Renaga went ahead to control and aid the battle.

Tevos could now intimately understand Aria's dearth of patience. She could feel the fine nuances of her anticipation, and the way her heart's rhythm seemed to adapt to their influence. She felt the sheer drive that animated Aria and made her who she was. Her unique, natural response to adversity and challenge was a potent fuel, sending her mind and ambitions stirring like a sea's undercurrents at great depths, galvanizing the cresting of tremendous waves at the surface. It was a sublime experience. It made Tevos wonder what idiosyncrasies of her own she had unconsciously leaked into Aria's notice.

The information Aria shared with Tevos was detailed and addressed all questions she might have had, but she found the way Aria relayed it to be peculiar. At times her thoughts would suddenly transition like poorly-edited film, or come to a halt where opaque, impassible barriers would loom immensely over her and refuse her access to the scenes lying just beyond them. When pressed for an elaboration, Aria answered across their connection, _It's not relevant. Don't worry about it. Or do you_ want _to see how Anikot was persuaded into giving in to our demands?_

Tevos could feel Aria confidently predicting her answer to the question. She was correct, of course. The situation recalled terribly eidetic memories of times when she had briefed her Spectres before they disembarked on classified missions, and how she'd always tell them, detachedly, to never feel obligated to share with her the unsavory consequences of their services. She had, inevitably, been forced to deal with the ramifications of incidents and casualties in the past and was thus desensitized to the universe insofar as it appeared on paper, on abstract record, on statistical analyses. But to live through these things—firsthand through the eyes of someone so inured to the gruesome reality of wars occurring in the tumultuous Terminus Systems, no less—was something she had almost zero experience with.

_No,_ she solemnly told Aria. _Don't ever show me those things._

When they emerged from the meld Tevos waited for the vague quality of cloudiness to vanish from her mind before she asked Aria, "Are you sure this refinement plant isn't a decoy? Didn't they use that tactic once before, as a diversion?"

Aria frowned. She released Tevos's wrist and reached out to reclaim her glass of wine as soon as her limb was freed in return. "That was an entirely different circumstance. It was before we knew much about who we were contending with. It could've been anyone."

"And you know much about them at present?"

"I have _solid proof_ of the plant's occupation, Tevos," Aria exasperatedly said while lowering her glass from her lips. "The location was given to our traitor as a point of rendezvous if they had succeeded in killing me. Whoever's in there right now _will_ be useful to me, even if they're not far up on the chain of command. They'll know something. We just need one learned captive, and they'll all come tumbling down."

With a pensive incline of her head Tevos turned away, extending her hand to the table at her side and retrieving her own wine as Aria had. She held it beside her head as she mulled over Aria's findings. "It just seems peculiar to me, that they haven't vacated since the assassination failed. With Eruam Anikot loose and pursued by you, they jeopardized themselves. And they're elusive, Aria." She turned to face her, trying to thaw the frigid leer she was sending her with the undeniable heat of reason. "They're cunning, exact. I'd have expected them to hunt down Anikot as you had and attempt to silence him to eliminate that liability. For all we know, they might have tried. I just can't see them lingering in a place you might become aware of."

"They're funded by Lorhan," Aria replied emphatically. She rose from her seat to stand facing Tevos, initially leaning a hand against the armrest to establish her balance after an ill-placed step. "You think he's going to buy them a new base? I've dealt with him for years and I know how he thinks. He's miserly. Cowardly. A low-risk, conservative investor. I'm not being reckless, Councilor. The people in the plant aren't wearing any known gang colors and shy away from the windows. They know _something,_ no matter who they are. I need to take this chance. And as for Lorhan, I've got so many people on him he won't be able to shit without my spies knowing."

"Lovely," Tevos dryly judged the hyperbole. Her eyes had tracked Aria's strange balancing strategy. "Are you sure you're not already a bit tipsy?" she asked her with a smile, knowing the accusation would frustrate Aria.

"I'm not _tipsy_ ," she firmly denied, taking a step away from the loveseat to straighten her posture to perfection. "And what about on your end, Councilor? Regarding Asari High Command. They've been conspicuously quiet."

"Matriarch Medora has kept me closely updated. She said she doubts they'll take any action, but we remain appropriately wary. If any news comes about you'll be made aware within the hour."

Tevos decided not to further contest Aria's decision to raid the eezo refinement plant. There would be no dissuading her, and she was sure that Aria had her own reservations about the plan that either mirrored Tevos's or added to them. Iterating those intractable problems to her would not solve them. Aria simply needed to prepare her forces, and herself, for the worst.

As they descended into silence for a time, tending to their glasses of wine and thoughts simultaneously, Tevos began designing an auxiliary plan of her own. Now knowledgeable of the refinement plant's location, she could easily send Shiala and her company into the surrounding areas for reconnaissance, and direct their attention there rather than upon the plant itself. Their additional eyes might survey treachery that Aria's spies might have missed, having been so fixated upon the central jewel of their new conquest. As before, she kept her lips sealed and Aria ignorant.

"So how does it feel," Aria began, stealing Tevos's attention from her secret musings to regard the crime lord's emergent smile, "to be one of the masters of the galaxy?"

She issued her a fleeting, perplexed expression. "I'm not a 'master' of anything. I'm an elected official."

Aria rolled her eyes, but turned them onto to Tevos again while bearing a foreboding glint in her irises. "I meant effectually," she said. "Do you even realize what we are? If we really wanted, the entire galaxy could be ours. We have the means. We have the resources, the experience... We could have everything."

Tevos laughed softly into the back of her wrist before readjusting her legs to fall over the side of her seat, allowing her to sit more attentively. She _had_ to hear the rest of Aria's statement.

"So how does it feel?" Aria asked her again, potentially desiring a truthful answer at some point. She paced a few steps to gather what raced within her head into a bushel of sense. "Doesn't it just make you... _burn_ inside? Don't you feel compelled—no—beholden to opportunity, as if it were an opioid feeding into your body?"

From their recent meld, Tevos knew that experience to be Aria's predisposition alone, although she now knew precisely how it felt. She felt excruciatingly close to Aria in that moment, despite the physical distance between their bodies. Aria stood there trying to catalyze Tevos's understanding through words, but they utterly failed to capture an emotion so undiluted and raw. If she hadn't melded with her, Tevos might have never obtained even the vaguest shade of accurate comprehension. To witness the reduced utility of verbal language was a phenomenon that fascinated her to no end. Deciding to privatize her unparalleled empathy, Tevos responded instead, "Well, I suppose I am feeling a bit warmer, but it's definitely the wine." She smiled. "But what would you have of me, Aria, if my involvement were useful in conquering the galaxy?"

"Information," Aria shamelessly replied. "Legislative blocking or supporting as needed. Spectres. Tools for the assassination of disagreeable rulers. For molding society as we see fit."

"As _you_ see fit," she corrected her. Tevos knew Aria's projected fantasy was merely that, but she couldn't help but lightly shudder in disquiet at its plausibility, had she been of a more imperious and guiltless nature. What an unnerving idea it was. It sounded like the perfect premise for some legendary conspiracy, rivaling those on bizarre extranet sites like ones Irissa once showed her in the past in pursuit of a laugh.

"As _I_ see fit," came Aria's honest confirmation. "It's true. That's why it won't happen. You're just too righteous, Tevos. If only we saw eye-to-eye on politics..." She subtly shook her head, feigning intense wistfulness. "It would've all been ours." She lifted one of the bottles by its neck before approaching Tevos and tacitly offering to top off her glass. Tevos complied, and Aria only paused to refill her own before holding it out for a toast—a legitimate one this time, in which Tevos partook.

The light clink of glass confessed their intent. As Tevos had stated prior, their glasses weren't small, and asari-produced wines rarely boasted low alcohol content. But they were both insatiably curious about each other, wordlessly exchanging a gaze that communicated a mutual desire to experience something less inhibited, something painfully entertaining and daring. Even Tevos surprised herself when she took the first generous sip of her second glass after their toast. Whenever she was with Aria in private her discretion always seemed to evaporate in the intense sunlight of her presence. She was too excited by the prospect of hearing Aria's words begin to slur, twist into nonsense, and ultimately dissolve into ill-timed laughter, to care much that the same fate might befall herself. As she already reported to Aria, the wine brought a hearth to her flesh, and by the time she had downed a quarter of her second glass her thoughts were beginning to pleasantly and weightlessly swim.

"So what would you prefer to do with the rest of the night," said Tevos, "since there's little to do but wait until we obtain the results of your raid?"

"I thought we had everything planned out already," Aria replied with a ghost of a smirk coming to reside on her lips. "We were going to drink... and settle on something regarding your debt."

Tevos returned her gaze with some heated abashment, yet she lifted her chin and retained the majority her grace. "I suppose that answer is as fair as any. And just what did you have in mind?"

The query enlarged Aria's smirk, though it was somewhat obscured from sight when she turned to resume her habitual pacing, treading along the white carpeting in her boots as she delighted in the countless ideas flitting through her head. Meanwhile Tevos eyed her with hidden, almost unconscious interest, letting her scrutiny glide over her legs as she leisurely strode, drinking in the sight of curves and resting for a moment upon her backside. Remembering Aria's keen perception of such things, Tevos tore her eyes away when she suddenly found Aria's smug gaze vying to meet hers, yet forced to wait a few seconds until the councilor was finished with her obvious distraction. A blush erupted along her cheekbones. She tried to conceal it by quickly lifting her glass to her lips, but Aria had already seen it. For a time Aria stood eroding Tevos's resolve with a knowing, faintly lustful look; one Tevos recognized immediately. The smallest pinch of interest at the corners of her eyes, and an equally tiny arrogant smile upon lips that held the most shallow, insinuating pout. Aria smoldered as much as she ever had.

She eventually relented to sip from her wine, resume her pace, and say to Tevos, "You know... I don't have the luxury of thinking about sex too often." A glance was sent back to the councilor to see if the statement had unsettled her any. Aria found Tevos willfully maintaining an impartial mien. "Sure it does wonders for stress, but I'm busy, and sex tends to be a risky business when you're me. You never know who might bring a blade to bed with them. I _have_ to be discerning, distrustful. I actually spent two decades waiting and carefully documenting the instances where my dancer Anthya proved remarkably loyal before I started sleeping with her."

"You wanted to sleep with her for two decades?" the councilor repeated with surprise. Tevos abhorred Aria speaking of anyone else while they were being intimate, but strangely enough, jealously did not immediately froth up and damage her mood when the topic was brought up conversationally. She found her interest piqued instead, by certain items of closely-guarded information Aria was sharing with her. Aria never spoke much about her personal history, her relationships, or even preferences. It was an anomaly whose scarcity was to be taken advantage of.

Aria gave a nonchalant shrug. "Yes. Twenty years of assessing whether she could be trusted, even though she would've said yes to me at any moment during those years."

"And what of me?" Tevos inquired, genuinely amused. "A two-month evaluation period at most?"

For the second time that night Aria rolled her eyes at her. "You've never been a physical threat to me. You're far more dangerous outside the bedroom."

Her charmed smile persisted. "You think I'm dangerous?"

"Don't confuse my perception for intimidation. You are a danger as long as I'm on the Citadel, where I'm surrounded by your Spectres and legions of C-Sec. It's always a potential threat, but it'll likely never be realized as a pressing danger. As of right now I'm not concerned."

"I'd image a certain level of danger is a prerequisite in your partners," Tevos speculated, believing Aria to be the sort who needed to be impressed before consorting.

Aria merely sent her a flirtatious smile and redirected her question. "I've spoken enough about me for now. How about you tell me what _you_ like in your partners, Councilor? I just might indulge your question if you do the same for mine."

Tevos drew in a deep breath and replied with reservation, "I... Well I can't think of much in specificity, only I enjoy well-spoken individuals, those with a certain degree of confidence in their bearing—"

"What about physically?" Aria interrupted Tevos, orienting herself in her direction to anticipate the answer. Once again her wine glass rose.

"Physically?" Tevos echoed, perturbed by the question. "I don't... tend to give that _too_ much thought. Certainly I'm attracted to people who are pleasing to view, but in the past I've been perfectly content with average appearances."

"And just what, in your opinion, constitutes attractiveness? What's good-looking to you, Councilor? What's your ideal elcor?" Her words tapered off with a laugh.

A noticeable pause was taken by Tevos to consider her reply. She sampled the courage in her hand before admitting, "I don't quite know how to answer that. I've never dated one."

"Would you?"

It had become awfully clear to Tevos that Aria's interview was meant to culminate in something more than a series of peculiar questions, but she knew not how to deftly evade whatever trap she was setting. Though her wine had bestowed her with the nerve to reply, it sapped her ability to work the art of dancing around truth. "I suppose certain individuals," she began, "when juxtaposed beside myself, tend not to photograph well on magazine covers..."

Aria's resulting grin evinced her sheer delight at the admission.

"I never made that comment," Tevos instantly asserted. As a politician she was terribly mortified by the insinuated prejudice. "That doesn't leave this room."

"Calm down, Councilor," Aria assured her. "I'm keeping that secret all to myself. I like it, when I find things like that in you. You're not so perfect after all."

"I never claimed to be, though it's curious that you were under the delusion that I was."

"You know I say that figuratively," Aria's amusement dissipated for the instant. "So, what's your type, Tevos? Tall and bipedal, right?" She gave a small grunt to jocundly illustrate the desirability of that particular morphology. At Tevos's visible discomfort, Aria continued after briefly tending to her glass, "It's fine, Councilor. I don't blame you. I've preferences of my own... I tend to gravitate toward females and asari. I've never been able to quite articulate it, but it's been my tendency for as long as I can remember. Not exclusively, however. There have been several males, but..." She thoughtfully sighed. "I always found myself wanting something more, while in their company."

To Tevos, Aria's preferences were outside the norm, but they were by no means unheard of. During her university days and within social circles acquired while working, Tevos had encountered other asari who disclosed to her a predilection for a specific demographic. She reacted to Aria just as she had reacted to them by suggesting, "Perhaps it's aesthetic? Or behavioral?"

"I honestly couldn't tell you. I just..." Aria's free hand fidgeted into an empty grasp. "I just love having certain asari _assets_ in my hands, but not every race shares those traits. And female batarians have these... these..." She vaguely gestured to her torso, but eventually abandoned her explanation when words failed her, possibly kept at bay by the gradual onset of inebriation. "Never mind. It's just been that way. Back on Thessia I used to get shit for it. None of it ever made any fucking sense to me, just another reason to get the hell out. The genetic elitism. It's eugenics, Councilor. No other way to describe it. There's something seriously sinister going on within that precedent... Cultural dominance, homogenizing. There's something going on, Tevos. And you... You might know _what_ , now that I think about it."

"If it was sinister enough to transcend bigotry and if I were in on it, why would I be sleeping with you, Aria?"

"Because you're sleeping with me, not breeding with me." Aria turned to the glass table, considering the act of filling her glass again. "That's the distinction. I never gave a _fuck_ about what our people were up to. All I know is that my existence does _not_ revolve around breeding myself well. People scared of Ardat-Yakshi... and what are they, one in a billion? What about mixed girls like me? The drug lords and mob founders? One in several thousand? I'm far, _far_ more of a concern than an Ardat-Yakshi. I've stirred up more trouble over the centuries than ten of them combined. If anyone poses the ultimate threat to our people's reputation, it's people like _me_." Upon taking another step to bring her closer to the bottles, one of Aria's toes caught the heel of her other boot, sending her into an inelegant forward stumble that brought her to her knees and nearly saw the wine in her glass lurching up and over the side.

At the sight of the peerless Aria T'Loak staggering for her balance immediately after professing her status as the pinnacle of asari criminal power, Tevos succumbed to a laugh, one unlike any that had departed her in years. She couldn't help herself—not even when Aria leered over her shoulder with the hallmark sneer that tugged exquisitely at her heart, and not even when she tried to breathlessly gasp, "Don't you... don't you _dare_ spill any on my... on my white floor..." Unable to stop for some time, Tevos was forced to set aside her glass on the table to her right where it clattered lightly against the surface before she released it, returning her free hand to her mouth as she tried to stifle her overwhelming amusement. When the moment had finally passed she dabbed at the tears forming in her eyes with the sleeve of her robe, left to wonder how she found something so basic to be hilarious.

Aria had drank close to twice the amount Tevos had thus far. It almost wasn't fair, in a way, that Tevos still retained the majority of her faculties, but the imbalance could be easily rectified by consuming just a bit more, since Tevos was well aware of her relative intolerance. She retrieved her glass from the side table and tested that threshold.

"In the Terminus Systems," Aria indignantly continued, with a nearly imperceptible slur lacing her speech as she pretended that Tevos had not reacted as she did. "Not even in the Terminus Systems am I completely free when it comes to sex. Because of the risks, sometimes there's years where I go without... Sometimes I'd get so fucking _frustrated_ I'd feel sorry for the next person I got my hands on. And you, Councilor... You can sympathize, right? Going years without?" It was, without doubt, a question meant in sadistic revenge for her laughter.

"Well yes," Tevos replied, pausing as a wave of vertigo crested over her. "Sometimes gaps between romantic interests of mine—serious ones—can span decades."

"How'd you pass the time?"

"I... Well, the usual way."

"How often?" Aria asked with mounting intrigue.

Tevos, even through her bleary understanding of Aria's words, remained wary of them. "How often what?"

"How often do you pay yourself attention?"

"Well that's _hardly_ personal, Aria..."

"Tell me."

Her face felt unbearably warm, and the way Aria was looking at her did nothing to help cool her skin. "Oh I don't know..." Tevos said, her voice hushing in modesty. "Sometimes once a week, sometimes once a month..."

Aria's expression was a flawless blend of amusement, disbelief, and disapproval all at once.

"I'm very busy," Tevos defended herself.

"No wonder you were so tight and pent up before we starting fucking," Aria drawled. She braced a hand against the glass table to maintain her balance while reaching for a datapad stowed on a shelf suspended between its legs. As she activated the device Aria temporarily set her wine down to navigate its interface, saying aloud, "I'm not leaving tonight knowing that you don't get off for weeks at times. Makes my skin crawl..."

"What are you doing?" Tevos cautiously eyed her, wondering what she could be consulting on the datapad.

Once she had accessed what she desired, Aria brought the datapad with her as she joined Tevos on the loveseat, setting her glass down beside hers. "I'm getting you something," she said, sliding an arm around the councilor's waist to draw her near and turning the device in Tevos's direction at last to share with her the extranet site she was viewing. "What do you like?"

Upon registering what displayed on the screen, Tevos immediately averted her gaze with a small exclamation of, "Oh my Goddess—"

With a smile, Aria insisted, trying to convince her to return her attention to the offer. "What do you like, Tevos?" she prodded her, kneading her stumbling fingers into the fabric of her robe and closing around it, keeping her close and urging her closer. "You can have anything here you want. I'll pay for it, keep your name off the books if you need."

While holding a hand over her eyes to visor her line of sight, Tevos responded in a warmed fluster, "I am _not_ getting one of those."

"Why not?" Aria inquired, her voice dropping to a lower, roughened volume. "Whenever you're feeling in the mood, just think of me for a bit, set it exactly how you like, and relax... I could even help you the first time."

"Please, Aria, _stop_ ," Tevos commanded her, although her revulsion melted into soft, irrational laughter when Aria gripped her wrist, trying to bring her hand away from her eyes so she could thrust the datapad back into her field of vision.

"If you don't choose one I'll buy you something twice as obscene as any of these on this page," Aria told her.

" _Aria_ ," she said, continuing to stifle her laughter despite her own acute discomfort. "You are truly tormenting me right now..."

"I'm not _tormenting_ you, I'm doing you a favor."

When they ceased clumsily wrestling with their hands Aria leaned in and momentarily pressed her lips to Tevos's, having immediately surrendered to an impulse with which her current self-control could not contend. She hummed into the kiss as her thoughts swirled indistinctly, growing pleased when she felt Tevos reciprocate the lax caress and lift her hands to rest along Aria's jaw. When their lips parted Aria said to her, "Mm, it would be nice, with no one around to provide something... gratifying like that. I like to indulge similarly, but not very often. Because when I do, my partners always seem to come under this... delusion of entitlement to certain privileges just because they've fucked me a few times, and it's especially a problem if I _dared_ enjoy myself. Sometimes I need to dispose of those who can't stay in their rightful place. Wasteful... There was an asari, recently. Able-bodied, a good biotic, and amenable to those occasional desires of mine. She was good. The problem was that we couldn't stand each other."

"How could you be with someone you couldn't stand?" Tevos asked her, puzzled. Since they parted, she left one hand lingering on her face, wrist resting on her collarbone, and her fingers curled to brush her knuckles against Aria's jaw. She had slowly arrived to the conclusion that an inebriated Aria was a talkative one, prone to tirades. But she couldn't see Aria being so open around her affiliates from Omega. How often did Aria drink this much, and more importantly, who could she afford to drink with? Her lieutenants? It was quite possible that Aria was just as solitary as Tevos was, in certain respects.

"For rough sex, obviously," Aria drawled. "Didn't end in a healthy way of course. Didn't end well at all. Then there's Anthya. With her, she'll do _anything_ I want. Anything. But that's the problem in itself."

"Do you care a lot for her?" Tevos asked, resting her head against the backrest to anchor herself within the subtly gyrating world around her.

"Maybe I do. But I care about all my girls, especially the ones in Afterlife. They guard and spy for me. They're my special line of defense. I'll kill anyone who lays a hand on them, without hesitation. But with Anthya, with sex... I have to tell her _every_ little thing. She's too hesitant to act independently, and that gets very distracting and unsatisfying after a while. I can't just lie back and have a nice time. I have to constantly orchestrate. What the fuck... What the _fuck_ is so difficult or jarring about me not wanting to have to do all the work in getting something I've already earned?" She grasped and lifted her glass to her lips, taking a long, final drink before setting it down at a distance, as if cutting herself off upon realizing she was venturing into unwise excess. "Some nights, Tevos, all I want in the bedroom is to be fucked well by someone who knows what the hell they're doing, but also knows their place and doesn't force me to _correct_ them. Do you have any idea how hard it is to come by someone like that?"

Tevos gave a diminutive shake of her head, thinking deeply as she did. She gazed at Aria, absorbing the confidential thoughts she had shared with her, perhaps regrettably come morning, but found her endearing for them. It might have been unintentional, but Tevos thought Aria to have been hinting potently at her involvement in providing her with an adequate experience. "Maybe I could do that for you," she quietly said, as if agreeing to what Aria hadn't directly asked. Her knuckles tenderly fell from the curve of her jaw to her neck. "Weren't we going to discuss this anyway? It seems like something you'd really like. You've told me before."

Aria scoffed. "I highly doubt you'd know what you were doing."

An abashed smile answered her, as did Tevos's dreamy, albeit uneasy reply, "Well, I've... I've actually done it before, a few times, quite a while ago. Terribly out of practice now, but, I'm sure I'd be able to pick it up again."

"You?" Aria asked, the curiosity in her eyes shining insatiably. "With _who?"_

Even with a gentle delirium swirling about her head Tevos still hesitated to answer. It was a tremendously personal anecdote, one she hadn't exhumed in years for the distress it might bring her. But she decided to proceed, utterly charmed by Aria's compelling, inquisitive gaze burrowing into her body. She retrieved her glass but thought better of it, merely leaving its volume undisturbed for now. "I... I once dated another asari, in secret of course. Back when I first started working on the Citadel, in the Embassies. I dated her for about twenty years." She paused, taking a moment to lay her hand flat against Aria's neck, as if to hold herself steady. The room around her appeared to be animated by undulant waves, rippling slowly beneath every surface that had become miraculously flexible. "She was the one who taught me, originally. She did it a bit differently than you do, but..." Tevos delicately cleared her throat. "But I always liked it. It's so... _intimate_ , probably since it suggests conception and the sort, from being similar to what happens, in the nerves, and—"

"Don't rationalize," Aria blearily advised her.

"But the point is... I can do it for you."

Aria seemed to withdraw into her thoughts to entertain herself with the idea, now that it was very much within the realm of possibly, having escaped the status of a teasing fantasy. As for Tevos, she had privately retreated into her memories. Trying to explain her experience to Aria had been like sorting through shards of broken glass in search of beads, rendering it nearly impossible to emerge without carrying fresh wounds on her hands. With distraction heavily weighing her voice, Tevos spoke again to honor the act of bleeding.

"I loved her so much," she solemnly and distantly confessed. "She was so gentle, and beautiful, and intelligent. Those were some of the happiest days of my life. I remember our dates, gifts that I've kept and stored in my closet. I remember her favorite dresses, and how she'd prepare us dinner when I returned from work. I still wear the same perfume I did years ago. It was her favorite." Tevos met Aria's eyes again, finding her reasonably attentive yet—as always—desiring an ultimate purpose for her words. It was obvious to Tevos that Aria didn't understand. She didn't comprehend the importance of these memories, their poignancy. But she _needed_ to understand, Tevos resolved without logical justification. Someone needed to understand. With profuse emotional investment in her tone she further revealed to Aria, "I wanted to mother and father so many children with her. But... But when she asked me to bond with her... I declined, Aria. I said no because I knew it would be the end of my political career."

Tevos turned away and retracted her hand from Aria to dab her sleeve at nascent tears forming in her eyes. They were nothing alike those given rise from laughter. "I said no," she repeated, sounding enervated to the core. "So we stopped seeing each other because I said she deserved someone who loved her more, who was willing to brave all the consequences of having the sort of relationship we did. Years later, when I was elected as councilor, she called me to say congratulations. She told me how proud and happy she was to see that I had made it. That I had achieved what I wanted. So I asked her how she was doing and she..." Her voice had grown tremulous. "She told me she was bonded with a second daughter on the way." Her story terminated. She could bear it no longer. A hand rose to her mouth in an attempt to calm herself, but a dawning realization had speared her so thoroughly and completely that Tevos could not help but hollowly utter in grief, "Goddess, Aria, I ruined my life."

She began to quietly weep. The first tears had glided down her cheeks, and hushed sobs fringed her breaths as she pitifully said to Aria again on her trembling voice, " _I ruined my life._ And for what, ambition? I'm going to die alone and childless. And it's _all my fault..."_

Though she remained a bit woozy, Aria managed to coherently reply to the distraught councilor, "Whether you bonded and had children doesn't place the value on your life." She housed nothing but contempt for those who universally stated otherwise.

"It can if you personally wanted those things." Tevos's eyes briefly met hers. She turned away to hold a hand over her face, desperately trying to retain as much poise as she could. She failed tragically as she continued to mourn her regrets, wracked by involuntarily shivers and small whimpers strangled from her throat whenever she audibly sobbed.

Aria shook her head as if trying to disperse the cloudiness inside her skull. She was unsuccessful, but she had enough sense to make a proper judgement of the situation and rose from her seat. "You're drunk, Tevos," she informed her.

"I know," Tevos weakly replied, but self-awareness was not enough to soothe her suffering.

Carefully, Aria reached out to remove Tevos's glass from her hand and place it upon the side table. After some fumbling she implicitly indicated Tevos to drape an arm around her shoulders before she lifted her from the loveseat, placing one hand at her back and one beneath her thighs. Not four steps had been taken in the direction of the hall before Aria swayed and stumbled, prompting a comment from Tevos, "Just _please_ don't fall." Her fingernails gripped her body tightly, dreading the possibility of being dropped.

"Girls usually swoon for me when I carry them like this," Aria retorted.

"That's probably because they're just as drunk as you are when you do."

Aria managed to traverse the hallway without incident aside from the instance where she leaned against one wall to wait out a storm of dizziness. She emerged into Tevos's bedroom, but did not stop there; she brought them into the bathroom, flicking on the light by brushing her forearm against the sensor before depositing Tevos against the shower door in case she became ill. Aria settled down in close proximity against the adjacent wall, grateful for being off her feet again, where toppling over constantly posed a considerable threat. When she peered over at the councilor she found her exhausted. Tevos was no longer abjectly distraught from dealing with the phantom of a splintered heart, but the lingering echoes of her grief still had her hand obscuring most of her face and tears descending her cheeks, albeit less frequently.

"Can you hand me a tissue?" Tevos requested of Aria, once some control had been regained over herself.

After crawling over to the sink counters, she returned with three so that a second arduous trip could be avoided. While watching Tevos dry her tears in defeated silence, Aria incisively assumed, "You don't often drink this much, do you?"

With a fatalistic sigh of amusement, Tevos shook her head. "No."

For a time they sat in silence. Aria closed her eyes and listened to the pounding within her head, while Tevos gradually recovered from her sorrows. She looked over at Aria, studying her discreetly when overcome by a sense of closeness to her, felt in the aftermath of a situation where she had been so very vulnerable and deprived of her usual composure, in addition to hearing so many of Aria's personal propensities and thoughts. There was something unequivocally sacred about the moment they shared now, in their silence, in physical discomfort attained from wanting to see too much of one another in a single night.

Tevos captured Aria's attention by uttering her name. Her blue eyes regarded her, inquiring.

"I just... I just wanted to thank you for being there," she profoundly said to her, reaching out to take Aria's wrist and consequently confusing her. "For being here right now." Tevos stroked a thumb along the limb she held, still riding terrible waves of superfluous emotion. Tears were welling up in her eyes anew, but they never fell. She gently tugged on her wrist for leverage as she pulled herself forward, wrapping her arms around Aria's neck and resting her chin on her shoulder. Both of their perfumes mingled in the material of the creamy shirt, producing an altogether unique scent. "I know we don't have that kind of relationship," Tevos continued, "but you're still incredibly important to me. I've done so many idiotic things like this lately that I _never_ would have otherwise. I've only done them with you. We've already been through so much together, Aria. I wanted you to know that no matter what we are now and no matter what happens in the future, you're still very special to me, and no one, not even you, can ever change that."

The expression was originally intended to be a one-sided disclosure to put her soul at peace, expecting nothing in return from Aria, so Tevos was duly surprised when Aria hummed against her neck and responded with a simple yet meaningful comment, "It's a nice perfume. It was good that you kept wearing it."

Tevos pulled back to meet Aria's eyes, only to lean forward again and kiss her, driven by delirious passion alone. The taste of wine was ubiquitous and thus invisible to them both, but its effects had eroded their coordination and necessitated a countermeasure; Tevos slid her hands up to hold Aria's face as steady as possible, and she felt Aria's hands reflecting the same placement upon her. Through the spinning world they were able to stay upright, barely, swaying and fumbling and accidentally meeting corners of mouths.

When they separated to breathe Aria pressed a thumb against Tevos's bottom lip to keep them apart for a moment. "Are you feeling sick?"

She refrained from answering with humor, potentially implying that kissing Aria produced that specific effect, and truthfully answered that she was feeling fine. Her reassurance gave them license to continue. Soon Aria's lips were trailing down from hers, to her jaw, to her neck where they ardently remained. Tevos clutched appreciatively at her shirt as she kissed her, feeling her warm streams of breath and teeth that did not aspire to mark her this time, perhaps from distrusting herself to be discreet and moderating. When Aria's attention migrated to the opposite side of her throat, she guided Tevos to tilt her head to increase her access. The action instilled a passion within the councilor that brought a shaky sigh to her lips as her fingertips dragged down Aria's shoulder blades. An originally private thought emerged on Tevos's voice, expressing how much she wanted Aria—to which Aria replied by asking for confirmation if she wanted to be taken to bed. The instant Aria received a yes she lifted them both again, staggering into relative balance and finding herself lingering against the open door frame. Eventually she was able to pass through it and reach the bedside after nearly tumbling to the floor on one occasion.

Once Aria had lowered them onto the mattress she roughly reunited their lips in a final, searing kiss while pulling the front Tevos's robe open to apply her fingers to the buttons of her nightshirt. Her digits stumbled over their dainty, nacreous surfaces, frantically struggling to slip them back through their loops. The endeavor required far more dexterity than she presently possessed. Tevos attempted to help her, but the addition of a second pair of hands only complicated and impeded their efforts. After spending almost half a minute on the first button alone Aria's frustration increased to the point where she considered aloud tearing the attire open instead, but Tevos advised her to forget about the shirt and pay mind elsewhere. Aria took her advice and removed her hands from her chest to transfer them to her belt, although the quick motion stole balance from her. She caught herself on a hand pressed to the bed and returned to her belt, unfastening it with more effort than usual in spite of her familiarity with the buckle. As soon as she had managed to push her pants down to her knees Aria hooked her thumbs into Tevos's lower garments and pulled them away from her legs.

She settled between Tevos's thighs and leaned over her, descending into arms that held her close enough to hear a few words of impatience and desire. Aria shut her eyes and concentrated through her hazy thoughts, just enough to start. For several seconds she progressed, dissonant and profoundly, eliciting a bloom of desire and accompanying encouragement that rivaled the wine in potency.

But not a minute had passed before Aria's concentration dwindled, as did her ability to continue. Everything was spinning. She slowed to a stop, panting against Tevos's throat as her tension and arousal slowly dissolved into weariness. When Tevos asked her what was wrong, Aria replied in a sacrifice of pride, that she could not think straight, and was too drunk to maintain any biotics let alone use her hands for anything as equally lucrative.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

For several minutes they had remained lying there in the darkness of the councilor's bedroom, spent and unspent simultaneously. Tevos had left one knee hooked around Aria's waist as she smoothed her hands over her back, stroking her impossibly warm skin. Meanwhile, Aria kept her grasp securely on her hips, with her mind drifting about as the dimness appeared to swirl before her eyes.

Eventually they pulled away and abandoned the idea of sex for the night, instead settling down against a backrest of pillows with the white sheets pulled over their bodies, sitting apart save for when Tevos had rested her legs against Aria's, who didn't seem to mind. On the opposite wall Tevos had begun streaming something to her monitor, the volume kept low. It was only meant as a distraction as they waited to sober up enough to safely see Aria off, heavily relying upon their race's metabolism to reasonably expedite the process in the meantime. But after an hour had been invested in the program about an art gallery wherein a variety of modern sculptures were showcased along with interviews of the artist, both Aria and Tevos were content to watch the program in earnest, even through a semiconscious daze.

Yet another sculpture piece was introduced; a smooth but abstract vertical form that twisted in on itself in various pinches, and painted in a dreary brown with the edges and inner curls fading into rustier hues. Tranquil music played during the period of time given to the viewer to perceive and propose conjecture about the work as shown at various angles and panning shots.

"I think it's supposed to embody apprehension," Tevos quietly shared her judgement.

Aria was less entertained by the piece. "That, or indigestion," she muttered.

Tevos turned her head to face her, taking in the sight of Aria's profile edged by the ghostly light emitted by the monitor. "I thought you liked abstract art," she said, puzzled by her distaste. The program had transitioned to the artist's comment, but it was ignored in favor of her question.

"I do," Aria replied. "I just don't like it when it tries to be something more than it is." She shifted her body, orienting herself to face the councilor with a rustle of sheets. "I like modern abstract art because it looks nice. Beyond that it serves no purpose, regardless of what the artist might say. If there's some obscure, hidden meaning that no one can grasp without needing an explanation, what use is that meaning, inherently? I don't let anyone bullshit me, artists included."

To Tevos it seemed that Aria had already recovered most of her faculties. She wondered if her head was throbbing yet. "I think I understand what you mean," said Tevos. "It's esoteric and inaccessible to anyone without an education in the arts, or like you said, an explanation. If its purpose offered any meaningful commentary it's lost and... and restricted to only those who can interpret it."

The pair grew quiet, reclining inertly as more of the gallery was shown. Tevos recalled the events of the night, pondering her severe reaction to her memories. It disturbed her. She hadn't shed tears quite like that in remembrance, or over any reason at all, in decades. She thought she had deeply buried her grief to the point where excavation was made entirely impractical, or so deeply that no aspect could ever rise far enough to haunt her. It was apparent that she hadn't, and the realization frightened her, to know that there indeed existed situations where her emotional and mental volition could be easily stripped from her.

But she appreciated Aria, passionately, for not ridiculing her for it. She had said not one ill word to her. She had not even remained indifferent. No, Aria had _comforted_ her, to the extent she might have been willing or capable of. It was probably the alcohol circulating in her veins, but Tevos had just felt _so much_ affection for her when they sat together in the bathroom, gathering Aria into her arms and running her hands over her face and neck, urgently inviting her to bed, trying to convey where words could not suffice.

Tevos only spoke again when they were introduced to an installment that captivated her interest and nostalgia—a paper-thin wall that rippled in blue light like sunlight filtering through a calm body of water, luminously and serenely, and accompanied by echoes that sounded as if they had been produced by touching a high metal ceiling, far, far above and almost completely attenuating before they reached the depicted waters. Moved by the piece, she turned to Aria once more, engrossed by the way the marbled light now rested upon the sheets and seemed to transform them into waves of sunlit water, and further on, laminating Aria's face in shallow aquatic submergence.

"It reminds me of the estates my family own," Tevos said to her, drawing her attention. "They have these... high ceilings and windows fitted with furrowed panes that allow sunlight through to the interior in a similar manner, like an atrium. The design was commissioned during the construction of the estates."

"Did they want to live in an aquarium?" Aria wryly asked her, sounding as if sleep were beginning to wrap around each syllable.

The suggestion made her smile. "That's what I used to pretend when I was young girl. I would sit below the mezzanine and daydream sometimes, that I were beneath the sea and could breathe the waters. But if I recall correctly... I never imagined myself in the company of any fish. I don't think I was ever quite that frivolous, not even as a child. No, it was my sea alone. My sea of solitude. Peaceful, and only a few meters down at its deepest trenches."

If Aria found the anecdote quaint or otherwise interesting, she said nothing to confirm it. Had Tevos kept her senses tuned to the program while she had spoken to Aria, she might have heard the asari artist state the name of her piece as _The First Meld_.

"When _I_ was young," Aria said, immediately seizing Tevos's complete interest with that simple opening, "I watched close to nothing about gallery art. I preferred high fashion. Runway shows. Jewelry made from the most expensive nonvolatile metals known to the galaxy. When I starting coming into money I filled my wardrobe with coats and jackets and shoes. I think I wanted to model, for a time. I was already into some of the drugs. But I had more... ambitious and demanding enterprises to pursue."

Another hour elapsed. Tevos noticed only after nodding off for a time and awakening with a small jolt before assessing her surroundings; the pale red projection of the current time below the monitor on her wall, the monitor itself which had automatically began streaming the next program listed in her account's suggestions, and Aria, still beside her in bed, except slumping to one side with a generous bend in her neck, and visibly unconscious. Her posture was unfortunate—enough to cause Tevos to reach out to her shoulder, gently trying to rouse her.

"Aria," she said just above a whisper. She lightly stirred, but never woke. "Aria. Wake up, just for a bit." This time she managed to elicit an irritated grumble. "Aria, if you sleep like that you'll have an awful neck tomorrow. And you'd never forgive me if I allowed it."

Halfway into sleep herself, Tevos slipped a hand behind Aria, laying it flat against her upper back while her other wrapped loosely around her waist. Her touch roused Aria at last, but only enough for her to mutter to Tevos, "What... What are you doing...?"

Tevos guided her to lie down properly, pulling down a pillow from its role as a backrest and returning it to its original purpose. She saw Aria's blue eyes leering at her accusatorily for a few moments before she was asleep again. The monitor was switched off and flooded the room with darkness. Repositioning herself as she had done for Aria, Tevos sank down from her upright posture onto the mattress, comforted by the warmth of their entangled legs. Aria definitely wouldn't be leaving the Citadel until dawn, at the earliest.

Her mind clumsily wandered as she waited for sleep to envelop her. She would've liked nothing more than to have kept her arm draped around Aria's waist, but as she had said to her earlier, they didn't have that kind of relationship, and Tevos was fairly certain that the motion would violate a sensitive boundary. She kept her hands respectfully to herself, and instead drifted into thoughts of their next time together, when Tevos intended to stay true to her word and satisfy Aria in a way she craved on occasion, but almost perpetually lacked a suitable partner for it. The prospect of having Aria in that manner made her blush and her lungs feel heavy.

Tevos somewhat admired Aria for being so confident and unapologetic about her sexuality. She sought what pleased her without shame, without paying stigma or misconception any heed, and she needed no validation from anyone but herself. She identified what she liked, and she continued to do it. It was an alluring mindset, Tevos thought. She wondered if she'd be able to meet her standards, being so sorely in need of practice. But what time did she have to practice, with her workdays bursting with appointments and petitions and her evenings often consumed by the work delayed from nights like these? Even if she did manage to find some spare private time, how could she utilize it with the raid of the refinement plant on her mind, with her attention constantly tuned to her agents' reports and awaiting the slightest shadow of trouble? There would be no time for leisure at all, not for at least another week.

She only hoped Aria and her lieutenants would be careful. Tevos had never expected that Aria's paranoia could serve as a reassuring force, but it did in this circumstance. The whole situation with the refinement plant reeked of deceit. But Aria was right. If the plant was occupied, they needed to storm it. Even if the occupants were but decoys, Aria could extract the name of who had hired them to be there, and that information alone was well worth the risk.

They only needed to be careful, Tevos recited in her thoughts one last time before she too was consumed by sleep.


	27. The Golden Hall

Throughout the entirety of Eingana's visit to the hospital, Liselle was wracked by dreadful chills in the aftermath of establishing eye contact with the ghostly presence haunting one of the patient rooms. While Rasma took it upon herself to conduct the interviews with the nervous and reticent organ donors to associate faces and personalities with each of the various medical profiles they procured from Sahra Igrahal's database, Liselle had deeply withdrawn into her thoughts. Possessed by her recent encounter, she became determined to assign an ailment to the mysterious patient's bizarre countenance and circumstance.

Although their pale mauve complexion was comparable to an asari's in hue, no crest had been present to confirm heritage absolutely. And Liselle had not observed eyes that glinted so brightly white within darkness in any race save the vorcha, of which the patient was certainly _not._ Beyond those sparse characteristics Liselle had very little to mentally work with. Only that the patient was somehow palsied or otherwise injured enough to own a requisite wheelchair remained for Liselle to decipher, but it was not a piece of evidence from which any new or groundbreaking conclusions could be drawn. The building was a hospital, after all, where it was positively commonplace to encounter patients awaiting surgeries or prosthetics. Perhaps they had suffered an injury so traumatic that it left them disfigured and immobile, Liselle speculated. She looked forward to—with some trepidation—the time when their long list of patients would inevitably bring her team back to that room.

Rasma's interviews were punctuated by note-taking, but none of the donors particularly struck Liselle or her allies as overly suspicious. Not one of them was at ease, however, having been daunted by worrisome possibilities such as one shared with them by a quaveringly anxious salarian, who stated that a rumor had circulated the floor regarding their trio hailing from another harvesting ring, come to purchase hosts and their contracts from Sahra Igrahal. The prospect of being transferred to any other ring had thoroughly terrified them all, and each time Rasma assured them that Eingana was nothing of the sort, the relief exhibited by the donors was nearly palpable.

By the end of three long hours Rasma reached the last name on their list of patients who had been prescribed nepenthamine, and conducted a standard interview just as she had done many times before. When she announced that they had officially exhausted the list, Liselle interjected by asking her to double-check, at that time revealing to her team that there was one individual on the floor whom they had not spoken to; one curious enough to warrant a full investigation. At her request Rasma reviewed the list again, but found no error in her method.

They took the anomaly to Sahra Igrahal. Liselle reported the room number to her and asked who resided within, only to be answered with denial.

"Surely you must be mistaken," Sahra Igrahal had told her. "There is no one currently assigned that room. You must have seen one of the staff trying to take a second lunch break, those indolent..."

Liselle's burgeoning obsession with the unnamed patient took her and the rest of Eingana back to the room she recalled. She led them in haste, excruciatingly sure of what she had seen. She described the patient in great detail as they traveled, if only to prove that she had indeed witnessed what she reported, for while the idle eye and imagination could be frivolous, they rarely conjured such vivid and exact phantoms in place of nothing, and certainly not when she was so lucid.

To her great dismay and consternation, when they reached the room and peered within Liselle and her companions found it devoid of all life and evidence of recent occupation. Not even returning to the terminals to scour the hospital records a second time yielded any evidence to support Liselle's claims. Dejected and baffled, Liselle reclined in her seat with a highly disturbed expression etched in her features, her thoughts scrambling to provide an explanation.

"I _know_ what I saw," she said to them when they eyed her questioningly. "I know what I saw and Sahra Igrahal _must_ be hiding them from us. She has to be."

Rasma truly believed that Liselle had seen _something_ , but it was still unclear as to exactly what she had seen. "Igrahal's been extremely accommodating to us thus far," she said. "We have obscene amounts of information on her already, all the grisly details and practices. What could be worth hiding from us? From Aria?"

"Maybe our drug smuggler," Malak proposed, drawing undivided attention at once.

Emerging from their several seconds of uniform silence, Liselle shook her head slowly and said, "But why? She's spent so much time and money honoring and advocating Aria. Why would she abandon a life-long investment?"

"Could be that her life-long investment was a bit more calculated than we thought," said Rasma, testing the possibility in her head before ultimately assigning it plausibility. "Could be that instead of helping build Aria up, she was preparing to tear her down all this time. Igrahal's got plenty of guards and a private army, from what we've seen. She's one of the richest people on Omega, maybe even richer than Drialus Lorhan when we tally assets. She's got all the credits and forces needed to establish another ruling syndicate. Everyone wants Omega for themselves. Few warlords in the Terminus Systems with notable military power would pass up the chance if it was given to them."

"Sahra Igrahal _is_ traditional, though," Malak began, lifting a hand to his chin. "Batarian, I mean. Back on Khar'shan and its colonies, you don't disrupt the castes. You just _don't_. And with Sahra Igrahal spouting _tradition, tradition_ all the time, it strikes me as odd to think that she'd overstep one of longest-lived traditions of our people. Knowing one's place. Here, that's beneath Aria. As rich as Sahra Igrahal might be, not even the wealthiest clans back home would dare contest our Sovereign. Divine right, remember?"

"It doesn't matter," said Rasma. "Until we figure out what she's hiding from us, Igrahal's a suspect. But we have to remember..." She lowered her voice, ensuring that both her teammates were listening intensely to her every word. "She's not like the other people we've dealt with recently. She's not on the same level as people like Kiava Vathesa. Igrahal is near _Aria's_ level, and she'll deal with us the same way if she's our enemy and finds out we're onto her. We have to be _very_ careful here."

Both Liselle and Malak nodded before they returned the terminals to their hibernation modes and departed the office. After briefly accosting Sahra Igrahal to bestow their thanks for her compliance, Eingana left the hospital to the privacy of a cab where they composed a report for Aria. Not an hour later, Aria had granted the Eingana unit permission to act independently of her orders, allowing them to pursue their leads and gather information without having to wait for her explicit directive.

It was also decided there, as they soared between the valleys of spires when crossing the border into Gozu, that they would rendezvous again in a few days' time to undertake a deadly mission: shadowing Sahra Igrahal in an attempt to discern what she had been concealing from them. Until then, Rasma instructed Malak and Liselle to stay out of trouble while she consulted Aria's intelligence networks for more information on their suspect, and if she deemed it safe enough, perform some additional electronic espionage of her own.

Liselle had returned to her apartment in a mild daze, still shaken by their findings. She found it impossible to settle down and relax for the evening, plagued by restlessness as she dressed into comfortable attire, as she ate very little in response to an unsettled stomach, and as she tried to slump down onto a couch to stream something asinine to her monitor. Hours after her meeting with the possible drug smuggler, the diaphanous glaze of ice upon her skin remained.

She considered herself rescued from her self-torment when she received a message on her omni-tool from Anthya, asking if she was free to accompany her for a shopping date as they had planned prior. Liselle was more than happy to confirm her attendance, and left home to hop into a cab as soon as she could.

Just as she had promised, Anthya brought Liselle to a lesser-known hanar restaurant in the Fumi District, where they were seated near a quaint, decorative fountain illuminated by cycling colors. There Anthya revealed to the maiden that her father had been a hanar, but it was a pity that she could only translate an embarrassingly meager proportion of the more blatant bioluminescence detectable to asari eyes. While the hanar language was too finely nuanced to be perceived without optical augmentation, certain hues that denoted tone and emotion could be comprehended without the aid of technology; some of which constituted what remained of Anthya's understanding. Secretly, Liselle surmised that Anytha's hanar parentage was the origin of her ethereal, weightless grace and the way she almost seemed to radiantly glow amid the many faces of Afterlife whenever Liselle searched for her.

She was surprised at the similarities between the cuisine of the hanar and that of the asari. The dish Anthya had recommended for her was strikingly reminiscent of fish-based meals Iaera once prepared for them when she was younger. By then Liselle's stomach had settled enough for her to savor her meal and completely clean her plate of every last morsel. Pleased to see that Liselle had enjoyed her food, Anthya offered to share a dessert with her. Liselle accepted the offer but soon regretted overindulging, left to wonder if the clothes she would model with Anthya later that night would need to be a size larger than normal about the waist.

While on the topic of parentage and language, Liselle was forced to inform Anthya that she never had the opportunity to meet her father, and therefore missed the chance to learn a second language at an early age. She was left with asari common and just enough obligatory batarian to maintain a basic conversation.

Too pertinently for Liselle's comfort, Anthya then inquired, "Did you know that Aria's fluent in batarian?"

Liselle shook her head, lying on effortless reflex.

"Next time you see Aria speaking to her batarian mercenaries, turn off the translation for a minute and listen. She sounds like she's lived on Khar'shan for years! Although, maybe the dialect in the Terminus Systems is quite different than the Hegemony's and I'm just unable to tell." She delicately shrugged in thought, lifting her glass of water to her lips. "She knows _so_ much about the culture. But I suppose one would, after spending so much time in these regions."

Anthya paid and the pair left the restaurant, soon emerging onto a street densely populated by stores and kiosks. They serially wandered into every clothing store with physical stocks, sifting through the racks on the side of the store specifically marked for people with anatomies similar to theirs. While Liselle, by personality alone, held a predilection for form-fitting clothing dyed in more subdued hues evoking evening hours, Anthya gravitated toward more festive color palettes and bolder designs where fabric was liable to freely flow. Finding Liselle's tastes a tad too reserved for their night of fun, Anthya piled several dresses in the girl's arms and herded her into a dressing room.

The dancer's selections were much too bold for Liselle's usual tastes, but after donning them and peering at herself in the mirror, in conjunction with Anthya's sincere approval and endorsing remarks, Liselle confessed that the shimmering gowns made her feel like a celebrity. She was so enchanted by one dress in particular that she purchased it before leaving the store, despite lacking a foreseeable opportunity to wear it.

After migrating to the next store over where Anthya playfully placed a variety of hats on Liselle's head and laughed with her at the most absurd specimens, Liselle eventually retreated into a corner to admire the glittering jewelry safely enclosed by glass cases. During her time spent ogling the gemstones and precious metals, she overheard Anthya quietly musing aloud to herself from where she stood before a mirror, alternating between two sheer dresses held over her lissome figure. She was audibly wondering whether _'she'_ would like it. The identity of the one who the pronoun ambiguously referred to was obvious to Liselle.

It was somewhat sweet—albeit concerning at times—just how often Aria was on Anthya's mind. There was no doubt at all that the dancer loved her, deeply, perhaps even obsessively. A peculiar surge of dolefulness flooded Liselle's veins at the observation, felt at knowing her mother well, and knowing that throughout all fifty-three years of her life, Liselle had never recalled Aria partitioning love for anyone but herself and her daughter. Anthya's feelings, as intense and genuine as they might have seemed, were more than likely unrequited.

The naïve child still lingering in Liselle's bones privately hoped that Aria loved Anthya in return. The feeling was inexplicable yet powerful nevertheless, possibly borne from the weariness contracted from expending an obscene amount of effort searching for information about her biological father, and her swiftly-growing inclination to abandon all hope for that endeavor and merely accept someone else for the position. Someone as kind and fun to be around as Anthya was an ideal substitute, even when she was only Liselle's senior by a century or two and therefore closer to a sister in age than anything else.

Liselle knew it would be asking too much of the universe, and asking too much of her mother. It was outrageous to demand that she be spoiled further by being granted more family than she already had, unofficially. In that modern age, fathers of asari were rarely present for the lives of their daughters and were often replaced by the traditional _community_ ; family and friends of one's mother, all contributing to the environment in which an asari could learn and develop by drawing from a healthy multitude of role models. Such was Liselle's case, with her community comprising Iaera, Zuria, and a handful of commandos. Adding Anthya to that category was beyond greedy, and so it was relegated to a reverie wistfully maintained in compensation for what Liselle could never obtain.

During their cab ride back into Gozu, Anthya had taken Liselle's hand by the wrist, opened her fingers, and left behind in her palm a small powdery-pink blossom crafted from vitreous enamel, boasting a brilliantly chartreuse gemstone at its center, with the finer details of the petals lined in thin veins of gold. Liselle's eyes widened at the gift, immediately darting to Anthya's smile to tacitly request an elaboration.

"It's a brooch," Anthya mirthfully said. "To match the dress you bought."

"It's _so pretty_ ," commented Liselle, unable to assemble more eloquent terms through which the true extent of her appreciation could be conveyed. She was moved by the thoughtful present, turning it over in her fingers several times in admiration before carefully sealing it away in a side pocket where she could constantly feel its presence until she found a safer place to store it at home.

Before they parted ways, Liselle made certain to pause and deliver Anthya a proper thank-you in the form of a brief embrace.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

The light hum of the skycar's engine as it merged into the dense flow of traffic was the only sound to be heard from within its interior, save for the voice of Aria T'Loak every ten minutes when she spoke into her communicator to relay the next coded encryption key to be used throughout the following time slot. Once she had finished clearly enunciating each doubly-coded character composing the new key, an electronic click was roused from the vehicle's computer when abandoning its current channel for communications and joining the new one. Soon after, radio chatter pervaded their earpieces anew, all originating from the many mercenary units rising from the darkest and most obscure fortifications currently under Aria's jurisdiction and setting forth into the caverns of spires, winding and regularly diverting course to disorient possible pursuers.

More than a full day had passed since Aria returned to Omega, granting her ample time to recover from her night of overindulgence on the Citadel and organize her forces and affairs into states fit for confronting whatever soldiers or outlandish horrors might await them at the element zero refinement plant in the upper Doru District. Her focus now held the linear integrity of a laser. So tight was her fixation upon the operation at hand that Renaga doubted Aria's mind was currently commodious enough to accommodate the single question she possessed.

"Who gets spared here?" asked Renaga, wishing to clarify which of their adversaries needed to be preserved, and how to distinguish them.

"Anyone you can get your hands on," Aria coldly replied. She regarded the lieutenant seated beside her, casting a superior gaze through the dimness punctuated by fiery flickers of glaring city light. Seeing that even Renaga had requested a final iteration for certainty's sake, Aria broadcasted her answer to all units on their secure line. "I know we're heading in guns blazing, but I've provided stun weapons for everyone who sets foot inside the plant. Aim them at anyone who looks the slightest bit important. In fact, aim them at _anyone_ not currently shooting at you, even if they're shooting at the merc beside you. I have two gunships scheduled to fly in ten minutes after we arrive at the refinement plant. They're our second wave. Useful if we run into trouble. Between the moment we storm in and the moment they arrive, I want to rein in as many live bodies as possible. You'll _all_ get generous bonuses for each prisoner we secure. Five thousand credits a head."

Judging by the chatter rising from various sources on their channel, Renaga saw that the promise greatly pleased the mercenaries flying in with them. Money was the god of motivators, and Aria's good business sense had long ago led her to the formula of spending money in order to accrue even more. And as of now, the healthy longevity of her syndicate was the ultimate source of income.

After swiftly navigating a screen on her omni-tool, Aria switched to the channel used by her spies already posted at the refinement plant. "We're about fifteen minutes away now. How are the heat signatures?" she asked them. "Still present and in large numbers?"

_"Yes ma'am,"_ one spy replied.

"All right. I want you all to fall back to a safe distance, but keep every viable exit under constant visual surveillance until we're done. Every door and every window."

_"Understood. Falling back to position."_

The remainder of the ride was subject to enough tension to nearly suffocate both the pilot and Lieutenant Renaga. Aria was wound dangerously tight. Her outward composure was but a premonition of calamitous violence, ready to erupt the very moment she stepped out of the vehicle, when she would pull countless enemies from their ranks and into the waiting hands of her forces, brutally culling those who resisted and sentencing all others to fates far worse than a quick death. If required, Aria would hunt her foes to the coldest, darkest uncharted edges of the galaxy once she caught their trail. Ambition rioted in her soul.

Eventually the element zero refinement plant came into view, perceivable between the gaps of space separating the buildings they flew around in an oblong curve, avoiding a direct approach as they searched for a nearby platform to land upon. The plant jutted from its stalactitic spire onto a street-tier, composed of harsh rectangular architecture and countless windows capping the top floor and its roof, made dull and dirty from years of neglect imposed by new ownership, who were unlikely to desire having the windows completely transparent in the first place. From the exterior, the plant appeared utterly vacant and desolate. Neither smoke nor chemical steam had poured from its flues since the terrible accident that had shut down all production four years ago, and the lights glowing within held the weak emissions of emergency energy reserves that automatically lit the interior in the case of power outages or the severing of access to power as a paid utility. Even they were beginning to drain, flicker, and diminish.

The skycar slowly came to a stalling hover over a platform where three other vehicles transporting Aria's mercenaries had landed just a minute prior. Their vessel lowered into their ranks as the engine attenuated to an idling hum. When the doors clicked and opened with a hiss, Aria stepped out onto the platform to see her forces swiftly exiting their own vehicles, drawing their firearms, and proceeding forward along the alleyways that would inevitably funnel their number to their destination. Aria strode forward, flanked by her lieutenant as her ranks dutifully raced past her. They listened closely to the radio chatter arising from the many groups heading in from the outskirts of the perimeter they had created to cage in their targeted structure. All had arrived on time, and all were rushing forth in silence to the entrances which had been closely monitored by Aria's spies ever since they fell back into deserted medians of towers and rooftops.

Aria and Renaga joined a dozen mercenaries at the main entrance after emerging from the alleys. Assault rifles were drawn, laser sights at the ready, with flashlight modifications switched on to penetrate the hazy dimness of the front lobby once they rushed inward. Stun guns hung easily accessible from their belts, frequented by the ghosting touch of fingertips hungry for their bonuses.

With a shotgun held in one hand and rested back against her shoulder, Aria accessed her communicator to confirm that every unit was in position. Only a brief pause was taken before she issued her command to initiate their raid.

They flooded the bottom level entrances, thrusting themselves into the lobbies and halls where they were submerged in deep, inky blue. The red glare of laser sights extending from white halos of light reflected off the miasma of dust particles and danced frenetically along the walls, searching for targets as a stampede of boot soles clapped against the floor. Aria immersed herself within the rush of bodies, aiding their forceful siege by biotically smashing in the electronic panels keeping doors locked, setting an example for the rest of her biotics who greatly expedited gaining access to every room on that level. They poured uncontested into offices, kicking over desks and dragging furniture away from the walls in vain hopes that they would discover someone cowering behind them.

With every passing second they spent without contact, Aria's frustration amplified, as did the length and swiftness of her strides and the force she employed in opening rooms for her mercenaries. There were no gunshots to be heard, not even over radio chatter.

"They might have fallen back to the upper levels," Renaga suggested to her boss, using her flashlight to illuminate the blue-tinted shadows when inspecting the main desk of the central lobby. She ripped out the drawers once the open area was deemed secure, rifling through its exiguous contents for anything of import. Beyond a few pens, styluses, and a broken datapad, nothing caught her eye.

Aria relayed new orders through her communicator. "Move up! Check out the control center and the upper levels. Two units on the refinement floor." Her forces leaped at their new objective as she switched channels again to receive an update from her techs.

_"Aria, infrared visors aren't reading any signatures besides our own on the first floor."_

"Why the _fuck_ not?" she demanded. "They were here fifteen minutes ago! All of them! _Keep looking!"_

She was seething, mentally thrashing in rage as she began to drown in the prospect of failure. Aria would not return to Afterlife empty-handed. She _would_ secure at least one quarry from their raid, even if she had to reduce the entire refinement plant to skeletal metal frames and rubble. Bringing Lieutenant Renaga with her, they flew up a staircase to the next floor where their forces were already frantically tearing into the offices and storage rooms, then up yet another staircase that brought them and two other units to the top level. While they hastened up the steps, Renaga caught Aria's attention with a report from her spies.

"Aria," she said, "reconnaissance says they've kept constant visuals on every exterior exit since you ordered them to fall back. No one went in or out during that time."

The update meant little to Aria. She wouldn't have cared if her spies had installed alarms on every window and in every door frame. The fact of the matter was that her enemies were nowhere in sight, and outside her grasp.

At the peak of the stairs Aria, her lieutenant, and her dozen or so mercenaries found themselves on the wide open floor encapsulated by the cage and canopy of windows; a seemingly interminable wall of cloudy square panes extending upward into the ceiling, bleeding in feeble light through the dirt and dust that was made sardonically golden. At one point during the plant's history a barrier field had likely protected the delicate glass from the industry contained within, or during its past life as a factory or business. On the air was a vague stench of defunct machinery and light traces of ozone.

Against the far wall partitioning the floor from the control room was a mountain of large, cylindrical, sealed tanks—lying unclaimed and dormant. The only distinguishing characteristic they boasted were warnings of corrosive and toxic contents within, as well as labels that could not be read at their distance. They were merely, to Aria's experience, the chemicals used to treat the coarse element zero after it was mined from the caverns of the asteroid from which Omega's districts extended.

The intruders fanned out, scouring the area for remnants of enemy forces or evidence which might enlighten them to their miraculous escape. A bomb hidden among the tanks was spotted by a salarian engineer, who assured Aria that it was of little concern, and that he had worked with similar explosives many times before. He disarmed it without issue, scanned their surroundings for additional surprises, and discovered two others. They too posed little challenge for his expertise.

Aria was left to stroll about the floor, casting her searing glare at everything and nothing at once. It had been another trap, although they had easily outmaneuvered it as a result of said trap being laid in haste while the enemy fled. That was easy enough to glean from their situation, but it was not enough to satisfy Aria. Given the impressive history of the entity she was more or less at war with, every move they made against her was premeditated and carefully crafted to lethal efficacy. To be greeted by a few charges tossed into a pile of chemical tanks was haphazard and desultory _at best_ , so much that Aria felt insulted. While they had failed to damage her syndicate, they had wasted her time; a capital offense as far as she was concerned, and especially when it made a fool of her as well. By that moment she was beside herself with fury, shouting orders to her mercenaries to _keep looking_ without cessation.

When Renaga chanced upon something that warranted calling Aria over, the Queen arrived at the indicated location in just a few seconds. Her attention was directed to a round hatch at their feet, completely flush with the floor save for the small depression in which a handle was placed. At Aria's command Renaga twisted the handle and lifted the hatch, exposing a small metal ladder descending into a maintenance tunnel.

Aria was upon the opportunity in an instant. "I want a dozen people down there, _now!"_ The ferocity of her voice carried throughout the level, prompting a group of mercenaries to abandon their fruitless rummaging to dash over to their boss's location and begin lowering themselves into the tunnel. "They have a head start and they've probably left more surprises behind," she said to the first man nearing the bottom of the ladder. "Scan every inch of your path but travel as fast you can and keep us updated! _Run, damn it!"_

Her final order sent them in a hurried expedition into a labyrinth of the unknown. Once the final mercenary of their company had flicked his flashlight on and disappeared into the maintenance tunnel, Aria retreated a few steps from the gaping hatch and lifted a hand to her face, covering her mouth and chin as she ruminated intensely. She meandered over to the wall of windows, bathing herself in its golden glow while peering through the mottled glass. Nearby, Renaga was exercising her prerogative over the remaining operatives, directing their search into the control room and beyond. Just as previously, they found nothing.

When her lieutenant returned to her side, tacitly and respectfully awaiting her solution, Aria spared her a brief glance before returning her eyes to the smudgy Omegan vista. Her hand lowered from her face.

"Why bother?" Aria quietly mused to Renaga. Her cold, distant tone was in great discordance with the towering rage that seemed to outgrow the dimensions of her body. "Why bother with... all _this?"_ She insipidly gestured about their dismal surroundings, bearing a rictus of distaste on her features. "Staying here for so long, knowing I'd be after them sooner or later once I found Anikot, only to set down a few pipe bombs and disappear through the ducts on their hands and knees? They had almost a month to prepare for me. And Lorhan's funds are far from exhausted."

"Maybe they never meant for you to come here," Renaga supposed, in spite of her awareness of there being nothing that could be said to quell the questions and objections infinitely multiplying within her boss. "No one knew when we'd find Anikot. I'm sure they were disinclined to reserve any important operations for this place."

"Then why post people here at all?" Aria inquired. "Just to fuck with me? I don't think so. They're smart. Two things reminded me of that today. First, their quick escape, and second, that they still have the sense to run whenever I'm near. But it's inane, to have known I'd come here and not use this opportunity well. I was expecting the very worst, Renaga. I was expecting blood, from their side as well as ours."

Several seconds of silence extended between them.

"Should I have followed that group into the maintenance tunnel?" Renaga asked. "I might still be able to join them, if I hurry."

Aria was quieted by the question. Renaga's intention to redeem herself after fumbling the attempted capture of Kiava Vathesa and Eshedra was blatant. Ordinarily Aria might have humored her and allowed the lieutenant to step back into her good graces if she happened to emerge from the tunnel gloriously bearing a prisoner for her, but the current situation was too delicate and vital for Aria to tolerate any impracticality.

"You'll stay here with me," Aria firmly told her. "We have almost fifty people in the main refinement plant right now and I need you here as an auxiliary source of authority."

Though perceptibly dismayed, Renaga nodded her head and obeyed Aria's behest. She remained engaging Aria with a lucid stare, however, communicating her resolve to demonstrate her status as an indispensable constituent of Aria's administration soon enough, if there would be no opportunities at present to convince her. Aria was not so amused by her silent assertion.

A chime in Aria's earpiece alerted her to a call. She severed her gaze from her lieutenant to address her omni-tool, checking the ID and anticipating the caller to be one of her mercenaries or spies. She was duly surprised to find neither being the case. There, glowing softly in the projected screen read the name of Councilor Tevos. Aria furrowed her brow in perplexity, lacking the slightest inkling as to what she could have wanted.

When she answered the call, pivoting her body to disengage herself from Renaga, Aria opened with a highly confused, "What in the—"

The urgent voice of the councilor suddenly cut her off. _"Aria, you need to call off your assault now. Don't ask me to explain. Simply trust me when I say that you need to retreat from the refinement plant immediately—"_

Aria returned Tevos's gesture by interrupting her in return. "What the hell are you on about? We've already stormed the plant and occupied it. Yes, it was rigged with a few bombs here and there but they weren't much of an issue. Otherwise it's completely _deserted_ , and I've only been able to send in a small company to infiltrate a possible escape route. I appreciate the concern but it's coming a little too late to be useful."

_"You need to listen to me, Aria,"_ Tevos pressed her. _"You need to leave_ now. _There are two gunships approaching your location as we speak._ "

Her free hand was fitted on her hip in exasperation. "Yes, I _know_. I was the one who called them in almost a half hour ago as a second wave in case we engaged in battle. They're coming in straight from Gozu, but as you know we've little need for them at this point." As Aria took the first step in a series that would soon evolve into irritated pacing, she prepared to reassure Tevos that her help was not needed, and the situation—though acutely infuriating—was under control. But when Tevos spoke again before Aria could interject, Aria's steps came to a full stop, all at once.

_"Those gunships rose from a platform only two kilometers away from your current location, Aria,"_ Tevos emphatically informed her, growing impatient with Aria's incessant attempts to prematurely silence her before she even relayed the details of her mysteriously-obtained intel. "Five _minutes ago. It's an ambush."_

At the new knowledge, Aria slowly oriented her body in the direction of the windows again, coming to face their drab surfaces before taking a final stride toward their wide, ubiquitous façade. She scanned the horizon with widened eyes, and although she witnessed no signs of inbound ships, her alarm was immediate and severe, rendering her silent.

_"You and your forces need to leave the building_ now _. You have less than three minutes_ _—_ _"_

"Aria," Renaga said, vying for Aria's attention simultaneously. When she received her wild, piercing gaze, she proceeded, "I just got word from our lookouts. Sounds like our birds are flying in."

While keeping Tevos on the line, Aria reacted to her lieutenant without delay. "Contact them," she said, her tone demanding that Renaga hurry. "Contact the pilots, have them check in."

With a nod Renaga carried out her wishes. "This is Lieutenant Renaga Emaia checking in with birds eight six four and eight six seven, please check in. We have your position visually ascertained. I repeat, please check in." She allowed the pilots a few seconds to respond. When they didn't, she repeated her message. Utter silence persisted, eliciting a horrible chill that rapidly descended the back of Renaga's neck and spine as she turned to meet the eyes of her boss, fearful of the implications. On instinct she took it upon herself to remotely access their gunships' core computers through her omni-tool. "Establishing a link," she narrated her actions for Aria's benefit. "Attempting to access transponders... Oh no..."

"What? What is it?" Aria direly asked of her.

"There... There's no response. Nothing at all."

Aria acridly cursed, concluding that someone had either intercepted or sabotaged her ships. The last she heard from them was shortly after receiving confirmation that they were en route to Doru, leaving roughly twenty minutes unaccounted for. During her descent into a torrent of apprehension Aria spoke to Tevos again, "What happened to them? Where are my ships!?"

_"I—I don't know, Aria."_

She could see them now. A pair of gunships, flying low and confidently toward the refinement plant, their path unimpeded.

"Get some guns on the roof!" Aria barked into her communicator. "Scope them out!"

_"Already stationed here, ma'am, on the lieutenant's orders,"_ came the reply of a lookout. _"We have the ships within sight. Identification numbers painted on the hulls check out fine, and both pilots are accounted for."_

"Take them out," she said, greatly surprising the snipers perched above. "That's an order."

_"...Understood,"_ they said, baffled by Aria's decision but finding it unwise to question her.

Aria and the lieutenant observed through the windows. Just three seconds elapsed between Aria's order and the moment they heard the muffled bang of a shield-penetrating round being fired from a rifle above their location. The round phased through the gunship's shields with a pale blue flicker wavering over the point of entry. Despite the reduced power of the round upon striking the window of the cockpit, the bullet was high-grade enough to shatter through the reinforced glass, and the same procedure was extended to the pilot of the second gunship, producing identical results. The sniper confirmed his direct hits to Aria.

The pilots had been reportedly struck cleanly in their heads by the trained, steady aim of a fine operative. But the gunships did not divert course. Still they approached, inexorable and drifting ever closer.

"Left the autopilot on?" Renaga surmised. "If so, they'll land soon and we can take a look."

It was a reasonable assumption, until the ships opened their guns. From their proximity, Aria could count every missile stored behind the main turrets.

Aria relayed a final message to Tevos. "...I'll talk to you later," she quietly said, terminating the call before the councilor could say anything in response. "Everyone get down!" she abruptly shouted, voice ringing about the open area and reaching all mercenaries within. Without hesitation they dropped to the floor, narrowly avoiding a dense spray of bullets explosively smashing through the windows and sending a hail of glass shards mercilessly raining down on those unfortunate enough to have lingered near. Aria and Renaga were protected from injury only by cloaking themselves in powerful biotic barriers that gleamed over them in a rippling luster. Glass glided off their bodies like beads of water on oil.

Beyond their position, the line of fire had perforated the walls with long, thickly-speckled trails of damage. It occurred to Aria at that moment, as she kept herself braced against the floor, that the old chemical tanks had been arranged with a distinct purpose in mind. They too had been struck by the fire, and their metal shells punctured in multiple locations from which caustic yellow liquid leaked in thin pressurized jets, vaporizing upon contact with the air.

On their communications channel, Aria could hear shouting and screaming from the roof as her snipers and lookouts were gunned down. An upward glance yielded the sight of bodies collapsing onto the glass ceiling and growing pools of dark blood seeping from beneath their corpses. One who had managed to retreat and find cover in time informed her, _"They're drones! They must be remotely controlled!"_

From her inglorious heap on the floor, Aria commanded, " _Take them out!_ Someone bring them down! Bring out the heavy ordnance!"

Another assault burst through the windows with a magnificent shatter of sound, keeping Aria and her mercenaries pinned down as those on the roof struggled to fortify their position enough for engineers and those bearing missile launchers to perform their duties. A loud pop ripped through the air when a technician successfully overloaded the shields of the nearest gunship. A missile followed immediately—using the few seconds of vulnerability to acquire his target and fire. A tail of white smoke followed the explosive as it flew forward and struck the wing of the gunship. With a boom and a cloud of scorching flame, planes of metal were sheared from the ship and sent swelling and flying outward, many of which ricocheted back toward the face of the refinement plant after invading fires ignited missiles within.

While most mercenaries scattered to find better cover Aria suddenly sprang to her feet, enveloped by a bright glove of blue, and used her biotics to catch a larger piece of high-velocity shrapnel and slingshot it back from whence it came. The warped blade of metal speared into the gunship's second wing, depriving the ship of its balance and lighting its remaining arsenal of missiles gorgeously ablaze. It spun in the air, bereaved of all control as it burned and spiraled toward the building, entering it some twenty meters to Aria's left and crashing through what remained of the windows on that side. Two mercenaries, unable to flee in time, were crushed beneath its hull as the ship skidded raucously to a halt.

All who remained available focused their fire on the remaining gunship. Another missile attempted to find its mark, only missing when diverted by several heat decoys launched from the ship. Through the attrition of gunfire and biotics, the gunship relentlessly showered Aria's ranks with sprays of bullets and missiles in return, cutting down mercenaries faster than they could erode its shields and body. On the wide open floor there was little cover to hide behind, save for the piles of chemical tanks gradually dispensing their toxic fumes into the air. Few braved the golden fog in search of protection, and those who did frantically reached for their helmets' air filtration, but they were not spared their enemy's wrath. The tanks were targeted again, peppered by enough bullets to invigorate the caustic jets of chemicals.

Aria was advantage of the gunship's distraction to cast a flare so brutal that the shields instantly shattered and became subject to their fire again, when Renaga spotted the danger. While their mercenaries were fleeing the deadly fog, its wafting extremities had expanded and conquered much of the breathable air, extending its reach far, and now encroached upon the tongues of flame sprouted from the downed gunship. The lieutenant acted, throwing herself at Aria before pulling her down to the floor the very moment when the fumes ignited. Fire billowed and consumed the clouds, devouring the molecules and hungrily climbing toward their volatile source. When they reached the tanks, they exploded in a cataclysmic chain reaction, one after another in so quick a succession that it seemed simultaneous.

The air was hot and heavy with fiery perdition and a deathly yellow haze, suffocating the interior of the refinement floor. Shrapnel had soared over their bodies after Renaga had pulled her boss down along with herself. Screams were erupting all around them as they tried scrambling to their feet; screams of those who had suffered horrendous burns, and screams of those whose eyes and throat agonizingly burned from contacting the swirling vapors. One yet untouched tank near Aria's position was soon engulfed by the heat and pressure, and obliterated with such force that sheets of metal strewn from its exterior smashed into the bodies lingering near, voiding barriers that spared them the worst.

Through darkness Aria tumbled, down, deeper into blackness, where she lost herself.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

She was alone. When she opened her eyes, Aria found herself utterly alone. Her vision was a blurred smear of golden light streaked by prisms of reds and greens, though they ultimately melted back into the chemical hues once her sight regained integrity.

The floor was cold against her cheek. Through her daze she peered about the dimensions of her environment and found that her world had been incomprehensibly morphed and distorted in the throes of her strange trauma. No more was the refinement plant floor, but pillars of sublime mausolean geometry, beveled by otherworldly patterns that feverishly swirled and shifted about like rivers of an emulsion. Far beyond, between the restless obelisks hung lowly a bronze sun whose apparent tangibility brought it closer than what was celestially possible. It too seemed to rotate with the same disease of anxiety afflicting the rest of her universe, pulsing beneath shadows cast by an invisible manifestation of dread.

She was imprisoned within a nightmare.

Aria attempted to move, but could not. All her efforts elicited from her body was an involuntary shiver, a chill, reminiscent of the shock she endured when poisoned. It pained her to breathe, and even more so to move her eyes upward to study the amorphous golden hall that uncannily differed each time she perceived it.

There she lied for a time, feeling the abrasion of silent ages pass over her inert form, until a sound penetrated the unbearable solitude. Clicking of heels—alarming, initially, but vaguely registering in Aria's lethargic mind as maddeningly familiar, and when it had, a flood of relief washed over her body as she strained to confirm whose darkened silhouette had emerged from the dial in the distance. She could not descry them. When she tried to draw attention to herself her vocalization caught in her throat and departed her lips in the form of a weak cough painfully rattling her lungs. Unable to reach out as they drew closer, Aria was only able to quicken her shallow breaths in a willful, albeit failed attempt.

Something was amiss. Accusation radiated from the approaching figure. Undiluted awareness of a subversive ploy that had long lurked in the corridors of Aria's affection, turning light upon the words hidden in her mind, _If she loves you, she will give you anything you want._

She knew. She had always feared and known the truth.

Aria's pace of breathing nearly escalated into hyperventilation, aggressively defiant. She knew not how the councilor would react to her treachery, nor could she fathom whether she would believe a claim to an updated motive that transcended greed. Could she possibly believe now, that something ineffably frustrating had recently sprouted in the depths of her conscience, causing her ulterior ambitions to slip her mind? Or was this truly the terminus of her patience, as Tevos had forewarned her?

When Aria heard her step around her she held her jaw tightly, proud and unapologetic even in her helplessness. Her core nature forever burned unabashedly. She was who she was, incorrigibly, and no matter how her heart curiously twisted on some nights, her original intent would never be erased.

She had wanted power. She had wanted it all.

Hands were upon her, lifting her limp upper body from the shining floor in the manner they had a few nights previously—a hand on her back, and one about her waist. Aria was drawn upward into arms, though her gaze remained unceasingly on the bronze sphere of light far away, harsh to the eyes. She did not look upon her captor for pride alone.

Strangely, Aria was dealt no malice nor revenge. She first felt the touches of fingertips on her cheek, and then the hand soothingly lied flat against the side of her face, tempering the terrible fires raging in her chest. But her forgiveness was cold. Bitterly cold, biting her to the bone once the flames were quenched.

She was lifted further into an embrace that was not the councilor's. Aria could feel cool silk upon the shoulder of who her enervated head rested against, a chest of more voluptuous proportions pressed to hers, and the scent of cigarettes hidden beneath a perfume that smelled sweeter, younger, but evoking familiarity all the same. She was held tightly, as reverent fingers obsessively and wistfully brushed against her neck, beseeching from her something she would not give.

All too suddenly, the manipulations of her body ceased. Aria felt her head smack against the floor as she was abandoned, though some strength had returned to her muscles. She used it to shakily push herself up, bearing a bloodied lip. When her glance flitted upward she beheld the first definitive face she had seen thus far into her nightmare.

An asari girl of unremarkable height and slightness, lost and aimlessly wandering the regions between childhood and adulthood. She was standing over her, pretty blue eyes shimmering with despair. It was a sight Aria had seen many times before. Countless times, endless times, evoking an avalanche of recognition and memory. Yet on every occasion her heart never wrenched less than it did before, and never did she refuse the urge to reach out for her, as she did now; extending an arm to the beloved girl, wishing to comfort and protect even when her body was broken and could offer very little.

She touched her daughter's sleeve, but she withdrew from her, casting a dark and distraught glower of hurt, anger, betrayal. Aria persisted, letting her fingertips ghost along her wrist, silently requesting her aid. At last Liselle drew close and extended her arms out to her.

They offered no kindness.

Fingers folded around Aria's neck and she was thrust downward, smashing through the floor and finding herself submerged in milky water. She began violently thrashing in resistance, sending splashes and sprays of opaque white wildly flying about, but no matter how she struggled, Aria could not free herself from the vengeful grip around her throat. Gasps desperately trying to fill empty lungs only brought in liquid, slowly but inevitably drowning her, until her motions ceased.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Aria awoke from the cruel designs with a jolt, eyes snapping open only for them to burn unbearably when exposed to the vapor completely permeating the floor during her few minutes of torment. With an invigorated grunt she threw the large plane of twisted metal from her body and staggered to her feet, lifting an arm in front of her face as pain radiated outward in sharp pangs. Though initially disoriented and blinded, the sound of rapid gunfire instinctively brought her to the floor again, moving on her knees as she sought an escape. The gunship was still firing on her mercenaries, who fled from it and the corrosive miasma in droves, shouting while they retreated for the stairs or the nearest broken window. Their only reprieve was that the ship could not acquire its targets well past the veil of chemicals, resorting to random assaults upon varying points.

Through flashes of sight Aria saw the bodies. Some smeared in blood, and others burnt and horrifically disfigured by the explosive infernos. Those stolen charnel glimpses welcomed in the haze, touching her bloodshot eyes like fire and involuntarily sending tears down her face in thin streams. Her throat and chest were equally aflame, strangling out coughs and chokes as she breathed. Though her mind remained bleary and dazed, one goal shone clearly through.

She reached down to a dead mercenary, hastily unfastening a belt of grenades from around his waist before slinging it over her shoulder. Steps taken toward the most well-lit direction brought Aria to a broken window pane, where she held onto the frame while stepping outside onto an exterior ledge. She did not provide the gunship with enough time to notice her. A grenade was unpinned, cooked for just a few seconds, and tossed into the air before Aria guided its arc with her biotics. She directed it into a vent leading to the ship's engine where it was deposited.

Like its partner, the gunship suffered the same fiery death. The engine core ignited and exploded, engulfing the craft in light and heat. An identical final command from the one remotely controlling it was issued—a tip of the wings that sent it veering toward the building, intending to take the lives of as many as possible before its existence came to an end. The gunship fulfilled its purpose. Aria watched as it breached the wall of windows, wreaking death and chaos as it went down.

But it mattered not. The threat had been neutralized, validating all methods taken to achieve that result.

When she retreated into the building Aria held her arm up again to shield herself from the vapors, clearing her mind of the nightmare brought on by trauma and delirium, and thinking herself a madwoman if she lent it any gravity beyond nonsensical, abstract torture. It was but the product of a twitching subconscious prone to threading together quilts of awful thoughts after being struck down into a glimpse of death, a moment of ill-obtained rest. It was alike disturbing dreams baked in the heat of a fever.

The chemicals were beginning to vent through the many points of destruction. Her forces were scrambling to make sense of the ambush, hauling rubble off allies trapped beneath it, checking each body for signs of life, and pulling those who had suffered the worst degree of exposure to the chemicals and fires to the side where they immediately received medical attention. More than once did Aria hear exclamations arising from blinded mercs, crying out that they couldn't see, they couldn't see...

"Renaga!" Aria shouted for her lieutenant, scanning the havoc through tear-filled eyes for the sight of her dark armor. When no response found her, she tried her communicator. "Renaga, where are you?" Again, she received no answer.

Aria continued a manual search. It was only when she stepped near a pile of still-hot wreckage strewn from the second ship did she hear a voice weakly and hoarsely uttering her name. Aria turned her head to the twisted heap of metal. Through her blurry sight and the pitiless haze lingering in the air Aria located the source of the voice. It was Lieutenant Renaga, lying propped up against a large plane of what once composed the gunship's body. Her lower half was blanketed by debris. Aria found her breathing, gasping shallowly and rapidly at an almost frantic rate, evidenced by the alarmingly swift expansions and collapses of her chest. When Aria drew near enough to assess the extent of her injuries, she discovered that the lieutenant had been struck by the exploding wing of the gunship as it crashed into the floor. The metal had been ejected from the ship with enough force that it had nearly cloven her in two. As Aria knelt, she caught sight of her lieutenant's innards, spilled from her body in a grisly, disorderly mass, crushed and lacerated beyond salvaging. Renaga only remained whole by delicate chords of flesh keeping her hip connected to her waist.

When Aria knelt beside her, observing the deathly pallor on Renaga's face and the rivers of blood running down from her nose and lips, the lieutenant managed to lift a violet-smeared hand to grasp at her jacket and breathlessly gasp, "Aria... I... I can't... I can't feel my legs..."

"Are you in pain?" Aria asked, her voice hollow.

"I c-can't... I can't... I can't feel..." Renaga pitifully stuttered as she began falling prey to shock.

"Talk to me, Lieutenant."

"Aria," Renaga said, her voice just barely breaking the threshold of a whisper. The fear in her voice was tremendous, shaking every syllable. "Aria... I think I'm... I'm..."

"I know," said Aria.

She was dying. The look in Renaga's darkening eyes told Aria that she could feel the tendrils of death clutching at her, crawling in her blood and stealing the warmth of life from her heart. She was reconciling herself with her own mortality, reducing who Aria once knew as a stoic, merciless killer to a terrified, quivering girl.

Renaga, like Aria and those who closely followed her, had long since forged an intimate relationship with death and therefore knew of its spoils. They had used death as a tool for countless years, sacrificing to its consuming silence as if propitiating a god, but few considered the day when the void opened its maw and called their name. It arrived so suddenly and left Renaga with so little time for preparation or comprehension of true finality. Who could have known what she expected for the day upon awakening that morning, or what banal activity she had once imagined for her evening, now never to occur?

Aria reached down, unhooking the pistol from Renaga's belt while knowing she could no longer feel the pressure of her actions. She placed it in Renaga's hand, helping her wrap her shaking fingers around the grip before guiding her arm to cross her chest. Without speaking, Aria grasped for her own sidearm.

"Aria," Renaga said to her. Her fingers curled tighter around the material of her jacket, as if clutching it would anchor her presence in the universe for just a while longer. She beheld her face, finding Aria strange in that she seemed to weep by the tears welling in her burning eyes, shining down her cheeks. She had never seen such a sight before, and likewise did not expect it to be the last thing she witnessed. From her pool of blood and gore she solemnly told Aria, "I'm... I'm sorry, that I disappointed you."

"You didn't," said Aria, cocking her gun. "You did well."

Renaga closed her eyes for a moment and expelled a weak, relieved breath.

"Are you ready?"

"I... I am," said the lieutenant. When Aria's gun was pressed to her head, she spoke once more, uttering words as hallowed and profound as a prayer. "And I'm... I-I'm proud, to die here, like this... For you. May the Goddess bless you, Aria, in all that you do. Goddess bless my Queen."

Aria pulled the trigger, erasing the raw emotion in her eyes from existence. The terror of arcades of endless, unknown oblivion, the waning dignity of a proud lieutenant, the looming worry that one's life had not been lived to fulfillment or happiness. Every sentient foible and doubt was nullified in an instant.

For a time she she remained there, kneeling beside Renaga with her features divested of all emotion. Another lieutenant was dead. Another invaluable component of her syndicate had been taken from her, and Aria had not even acquired the smallest shred of information in compensation for the tremendous loss. Her thoughts twisted into hideous shades of wrath.

Upon rising to her feet Aria shouted new orders to her mercenaries, directing them to sift through the remains of the ships for anything of the slightest importance. They readily obeyed, scouring the wreckage and prying open the collapsed cockpits to examine the decoy pilots. While they busied themselves with their new task, Aria lifted a hand to her face, wiping away her streaks of tears in consternation before lowering her fingertips to her lips. When she brought her hand away she found a sheen of deep violet on her fingertips, inspiring her to disdainfully wonder how she presently appeared to her mercenaries.

An abrupt bang threw her attention to the gunships undergoing investigation. The door to the cargo hold of one still-burning ship had been blown open, potentially by heat or by the expedient methods employed by Aria's units. Peculiarly, neither seemed to be the case, judging by their reaction; assault rifles were lifted by several mercs, who approached the darkness of the hold with utmost caution and vigilance. The very moment one switched his flashlight modification on to illuminate the interior, a flicker of blue accompanied by a resounding boom brutally ejected the five mercenaries from the hold, sending them flying back with such force that two were thrown past the broken windows. One managed to grip the ledge before plummeting to his doom. The other was not so fortunate.

Aria immediately returned to her lieutenant's body, braving the pulpy entrails to loot Renaga's redundant shield generator pack from her light armor. She secured it on one of the belts hidden beneath her white jacket, promptly bringing it online in anticipation of trouble. Meanwhile, her forces had fixated on the unexplained incident, keeping their arms drawn but refraining from another approach.

Past their lines, Aria approached on her own, taking purposeful strides toward the wreckage, her heart bursting with anger and vengeance.

From the cargo hold emerged a figure, shadowed by the bright flames but discernibly clad in a hardsuit. A helmet encased their head, but it did not conceal their face for long—it was gripped and lifted away, as if to intentionally and spitefully have Aria see who it was that had come to slaughter her people like animals. Aria recognized the crest of an asari, but after not a full second spent analyzing her foe she realized something was terribly, terribly amiss.

When the asari turned to face Aria's direction she saw the nearly opaque sections of synthetic flesh grafted onto the countenance, hued in ghoulish shades of unnatural decay, keeping the very skull and its contents intact. Even from her distance the presence of both metal and bone beneath the cloudy false flesh was visible, and while the left eye socket of the abomination was empty altogether, leaving behind a black void where one could peer directly into the recesses of its head, the remaining right eye had been replaced by a lens emitting a shining ring of light to enhance perception. Its visage seemed bereft of all sapient agency.

And then Aria saw it; imposingly printed on the cobalt shoulder guard was a white symbol resembling that of wings encircled by a halo. A Council Spectre's emblem.

It was Neora.

Though Aria's eyes had considerably widened upon perceiving the horror, her hateful glare never faltered as the Spectre began approaching her with long, slanted strides, carried on legs punctuated by stretches of armor and of raw machinery, where wires ran like veins while rounded and polished joints reflected the bent light of flames and embers floating by and cradling her baleful silhouette. Compelled by rage and instinct, Aria stepped forward to engage what was evidently the most sophisticated corruption of life fashioned by her enemy thus far, elucidating their technique and boasting the technologies they possessed; components mimicking functions of the organic so flawlessly that even the dead could appear self-aware again. Its mere existence insulted the mindful gradient of evolution. It was an agent of doom.

"Looks like they had to fix you up real nice after I was done with you the first time," Aria said, keeping her chin held high while almost quivering at the opportunity to unleash all the wrath steadily accumulating in her blood over weeks. A barrier gleamed over her clothes and skin. "Back for more?"

Neora did not speak. Her hand raised, flickering with biotics as she cast a veneer of blue light around Aria, attempting to trap her in a stasis field. Aria had her barrier pulse outward in response, shredding through the foreign layer with a violent, glowing burst and dissipating it with ease. As a final directive to her forces, Aria lifted a few fingers to her communicator, saying to them simply, "Fall back. I need to address the situation on my own."

The moment she finished relaying her orders, Aria planted her feet firmly upon the floor and swung an arm forward. A brilliant flare ripped itself into existence, engulfing Neora with a tremendous thud and ripple of sound that resonated in the chests of all who were close enough to witness it. The Spectre stepped from the buzz of energy unharmed, protected by a barrier much like Aria's that flickered brightly when struck, but did not collapse. While her remaining mercenaries evacuated and Neora drew ever closer, Aria caught sight of nodules embedded in her neck, and identified them as biotic amps. Any living creature outfitted with so many amplifiers would fry their own nervous system instantaneously when utilizing their biotics from the sheer explosion of power. Evidently, in Neora's unique case that limitation had been circumvented.

As if in demonstration of the power available to her with a twitch of her fingers, Neora lifted the wreckage of the gunship she had emerged from. The mass rose from a bed of debris, hovering immensely over the Spectre's head before it was launched forward and down, aiming to crush Aria beneath its weight.

Painfully aware that she would not be able to catch the ship with her capabilities, Aria biotically seized a fallen metal beam, pulling it upright to collide with the gunship and alter the mass's trajectory just enough for Aria to evade it. She rolled to the side, skidding briefly along the floor before she was on her feet again, now sprinting toward Neora in retaliation. Arriving at an angle, Aria slammed her fist into the side of her face, the blow made tremendous through biotic augmentation. It only sent Neora staggering back several steps, her weight displaced, but completely uninjured. Against any other foe Aria knew she would have cracked their skull open.

For an unnerving few seconds Neora merely observed her in silence, learning of her, compiling its data, staring at her through the singular eye of her corpse.

Aria refused her the opportunity. With a furious shout she gripped the Spectre about her torso and ran her backward, slamming her body into an emptied, heat-twisted tank and biotically lifting it from its haphazard placement the moment Neora convulsed to the floor from the impact. Aria smashed the tank down into Neora's chest, aspiring to splinter her body open to reveal more of its secrets. The first blow dented the tank, and the second missed when Neora rolled out from beneath its path, onto her feet, and stole the tank from Aria's custody to turn it back upon her. She viciously launched it toward Aria's head, who ducked in time to see it soaring by and smashing cleanly through the windows.

Unable to contend with the speed of the reborn Spectre, Aria failed to recover quickly enough to evade Neora when she darted forward, thrust her hand down, and seized Aria by the neck. In reciprocation Neora rushed her back, fingers wrapping around her throat in a vise as Aria's hands flew to her wrist and forearm, breathing hard and fast through the closing aperture into her lungs. She stumbled on her heels from their swift pace, trying to maintain her balance in vain. Soon Aria was lifted altogether and rammed into weakened frames still clutching at sharp, jagged remnants of window panes once fitted intact in their squares.

Aria kicked her legs downward, searching for the purchase of the floor but found none while Neora's hand squeezed tighter around her throat. Possessed by the need to prevail, Aria ceased struggling for the moment it took to curl her legs inward and extend them forward, smashing them into her captor hard enough to throw her back. With her lungs filled again Aria pursued her with a biotic throw, sending Neora sailing into the gunship she once raised.

Though she bled both organic blood and an outlandish white fluid, Neora peeled herself away from the hull without the slightest wince crossing her empty features. It was strange to Aria that she still bled at all, after suffering horrendous burns and damage from their last encounter. They engaged again, brutally, relentlessly, in a maddened clash over Omega itself.

Aria's mercenaries, who spied the battle from their position of retreat, spectated nothing save for blue flashes and their accompanying, low-frequency booms that made the very atmosphere shudder. What remained of the windows would occasionally burst and send portions of the glass roof collapsing and folding in on itself, while flames would lick at the ledges of the lower floor when released from confinement. There were no sounds of gunfire, as if firearms had been rendered retroactively obsolete when overshadowed by undiluted biotic might that shamed the legendary skill of many matriarchs and threatened to bring down the defunct refinement plant in its entirely. At times, those with visors caught glimpses of their boss and the supreme horror exchanging blows that would have split unprotected flesh open to the bone, or lifting massive beams of metal like halberds. The world yielded to their power, bending and breaking beneath their weight as they wrought catastrophe.

Aria had not been stretched so thinly to meet the skill of an adversary in a hundred years. She pushed herself hard to contend with the abomination mercilessly tossing about the gunships as if they were made of paper, sending them rolling heavily about the floor as Aria ducked and evaded their boulder-like presence while simultaneously returning the assault. The glass was coming down onto their heads in massive, deadly sheets, barely descending fast enough to trip Aria's kinetic shields, whose integrity rapidly waned with each misstep.

In a desperate bid to turn the tide, Aria leapt at the opportunity to vault herself through the open hold of a gunship that did not spin in the air when sent flying toward her. After cleanly slipping through the hold she emerged on the other side, brought close enough to Neora to hurtle into her with all the force left in her body upon her return to the floor. Her exhausted biotics were resurrected on hatred alone, fueling her attrition of blows that pounded into the synthetic flesh beneath her fists before throwing the Spectre into the far wall.

As she had countless times before, Neora strode forward to rejoin the fray. But this time she spoke, chilling Aria to her core when she revealed thoughts assembled by a since departed mind, speaking them on a voice that was and was not her own, now laced with rough, droning pops and hooks of mechanical fluctuation, "A creature of many lives and many deaths," she uttered. "A creature that chooses not to feel. A creature that can compare itself to gods."

"Big words," Aria remarked, secretly in the midst of catching her breath. She retained her confident posturing, even as she bled profusely from her lip and carried a look of sullen weariness around her eyes. "Think you can live up to them?"

"I was talking about you," Neora dreadfully clarified. Without warning, she broke into a dash, barreling forward as fast as her enhanced legs could carry her malformed physique. She threw herself into Aria, and together they were hurled from the empty windows, suddenly tumbling through the air as wild flashes of color and buildings gyrated around their heads and disoriented senses.

When Aria located her enemy she lashed out with a kick, only for her ankle to be gripped by Neora and used as leverage for the Spectre to pull herself close enough to strike her in the face. Aria reeled when the armored, metal-imbued fist contacted her head, consciousness only persisting from her barrier absorbing the majority of the impact. Knuckles found her face again, sprouting a stream of blood from her nose and seeking to bludgeon her before they even met the glass roof of the central lobby beneath their bodies, where two holes already marked the entry points of mercenaries who had fallen to their deaths minutes before.

Aria did not suffer the same fate. She rolled them over in the air, smashing Neora's body through the roof as she cloaked herself in a barrier and lifted herself just enough to brake her descent to survivable speeds, but not enough to steal their velocity completely. Although she too partially suffered from the fall, feeling the pang in her very bones, Aria slammed Neora down into the floor out of pure spite, hoping with every fiber of her being that she had broken her at last.

Glass scraped at her body as Aria scrambled up from the shallow, crater-like dent in the floor, quickly enough to be greeted by Neora's rise. She had not killed the horror, Aria saw, but by the sight of a wavering, frantically surging barrier she could see that her focus and control over her raw power was deteriorating. When Neora swung her fist at her face, Aria allowed her. Her shields burst, but she remained unaffected by the surge of biotics escaping the strike in every wild direction rather than one. Aria biotically lifted a long glass pane from the floor, aimed it well, and speared Neora from behind.

The sharp point of the pane protruded from the Spectre's stomach, luridly shining with violet blood and streams of strange pale fluid. Few recognizable organs had remained in Neora's body, but it was apparent to Aria that keeping blood pumping through her veins had remained a necessary provision for her reanimation.

But though the wound portended her last demise in a line of many, Neora would see to it that she brought Aria with her. She grasped her with moribund hands, clutching Aria's jacket and shoulder with renewed purpose. Aria instantaneously retreated in aversion, but felt a only wall at her back and the tip of the glass pane at her stomach.

Fervently she twisted and thrashed, tapping into an empty well of biotics in vain. Neora pressed herself forward, forcefully, while rays of spectral enmity seemed to glow in her lone optical implant. She broke through Aria's dwindling strength of resistance and managed to pierce her waist with the glass's tip, uniting them by common impalement, at which point Aria let forth a visceral, strained cry from behind clenched teeth, half in rage and half in agony. Her breaths accelerated as her fingers slipped and stumbled over the glass yet to skewer her deeper, growing slick with her own blood drawn from the edges.

Neora was overwhelming her, driving the glass further into her flesh and wrenching another long, gruesome shout from Aria's throat. She panted hard as she continued to lacerate her fingertips, searching for a viable grip. Aria reached deeply within herself, weathering through the agony it caused her to derive might from her very reservoirs of life, from the very molecules in her blood where it should never have been touched. She ripped it from her cells, wisps of biotic power wavering along her skin like trails of glowing smoke, and it erupted, savagely casting Neora back from her body as the flare boomed between them and crackled when the remnant energy dissipated. The moment Aria was free she was upon Neora, bleeding profusely even as she biotically ripped the pane of glass clean through the side of the Spectre's rib cage and drove it back into the front her neck, severing conduits finely animating her body. The trauma thrust Neora into a violent episode of convulsions, twisting and twitching infernally when the thick glass caught the synthetic sheath protecting her spine and sawed into it, spilling forth organic blood and pale iridescent fountains alike in measured, generous pulses.

Aria reserved no mercy for her. She placed one boot on the Spectre's chest, gripped her about the chin and jaw, and pulled. She called upon every atom of strength left within her as thin streams of blood ran down from her lips, nose, the puncture wound in her side, and her slashed fingers. Watching through the dim blue light cast by malfunctioning fixtures above her head, wires, arteries, tubes, and bone popped, dislodged, and were pried free; and after a few arduous seconds Neora's head was torn cleanly from her body, releasing Aria from her leveraged exertion and sending her staggering back with the still-shuddering skull in her hands.

In revulsion she dropped it, letting it thud to the floor where it rolled and ceased moving altogether. The lone photoreceptor went dark.

With her hands freed, Aria brought them up to her side where she covered her wound, pressing into the flesh to dam the bleeding. She stepped to the wall opposite where Neora lay, bits of glass crunching beneath her heels until she sunk down into an exhausted recline.

Not a moment of reprieve was stolen for herself before the skull burst open, expelling a rain of sparks and bits of shrapnel that tripped Renaga's shield generator. It glazed her briefly. Initially Aria believed it to be merely a result of damaged wiring completing erroneous circuits, but when she drew close again to peer inside the fleshy interior littered with bits of technology, Aria was able to locate the source of the overload as the central processors stored within the head where conductive fluid composed the body's sensory network—not common electrical circuitry.

The overload had been a pre-programmed response upon death, eliminating local data storage and thus protecting the unit's secrets from enemy technicians. Given the nature of her adversaries Aria normally would not have been surprised to see that particular feature in their creations, but something gave her pause. She recalled the ring of light shed from the abomination's singular eye, the white fluid coursing her body beside her veins, the scratchy mechanical lilt of her voice, and self-destruction following defeat. All were symptoms reminiscent of creatures that had arisen within her lifetime by a people's misguided ambition, stirring the galaxy with apprehension after sending the entire race responsible for their creation away from their homeworld in devastated exile.

_Geth,_ Aria recalled their name, though she could scarcely assign her suspicion much credence. The geth did not venture beyond their isolated territories within the Perseus Veil for whatever enigmatic reasons they had. And, more significantly, they did not insert themselves into the war affairs of other races, especially the skirmishes constantly engulfing Omega where their consensus would reap no benefits. So removed from the eye (but not the minds) of society at large were the geth that Aria admitted to never before personally seeing a live, intact platform in her entire life. It made no sense to her.

Rather than investing more time in conjecture, Aria lifted a blood-slick hand to her communicator and summoned her mercenaries. "I want about ten of you down in the main lobby," she said. "At least two engineers... and a medic."

When they gave their confirmation, Aria rested her head back against the wall, shutting her eyes as she purposely confronted the pain emanating from her side, letting it wash over her until it was reduced to an inconsequential constant. In the deep blue shadows of lobby, night had set upon the gold of her mind, calming the world of violence into one of temporary rest.


	28. Liselle's Mother

Liselle had been at home, minding Rasma's advisement to _stay out of trouble_ for a few days until Eingana reassembled. It was only unfortunate that her list of entertainment options was exhausted within a few hours of awakening that day, thrusting her into a boredom so consuming and severe that she finally brought herself to scrub her kitchen sink, where a few weeks of negligence had brought a pale film accumulating around its edges.

While laboring to erode the layer, Liselle received an audio message to her omni-tool. It had been addressed to at least thirty recipients, whose names had been redacted, but the contents of the message prevailed unvaried as it arrived at intended inboxes all over Omega. At first glance it appeared to contain orders, for which she would have been grateful if it meant her excusal from household chores and all the misery they caused her, but that moment of wry humor came to a jarring halt when she realized the serious nature of the correspondence.

The contents, drafted by Lieutenant Zuria Alaris, summoned every agent who received the message, provided that they were not presently tasked with another objective ordained by Aria, to Afterlife. The lieutenant was calling for additional units to the area to handle the aftermath of a worrisome incident, whose details were not disclosed. Fearing the worst, Liselle dropped her sponge without indulging in the smallest iota of relief and fled her apartment to a cab.

During the short ride she contacted Malak and Daus, inquiring if they happened to be knowledgeable of what had occurred at the nightclub that warranted the presence of extra operatives, and investigative ones at that. The two confessed their ignorance, but reported that they were also traveling to the same destination to offer their aid in any way the lieutenant saw fit. Liselle was only seated in transit for less than five minutes, but they seemed to excruciatingly double in length when subjected to her apprehension. She could scarcely sit still, keeping her forehead virtually braced against the windows to survey any sign that might indicate what the trouble consisted of.

Nearly a dozen other skycars were queuing to land upon the closet platform to Afterlife when Liselle's transportation arrived. Mercenaries were fanning out and erecting a wide circumference around the nightclub to prevent anyone without authorization from entering. When Liselle disembarked onto the busy scene she scanned the myriad faces for familiar ones, and eventually located the two operatives she recently spoke to standing with their firearms drawn while serving as part of the perimeter densely protecting the club's entrance. Liselle joined them near the base of the steps, mimicking their stances by retrieving her submachine gun from her belt and standing at attention beside them.

"Have you figured out what's going on?" she asked the pair, her brow shallowly furrowed with worry as she glanced over her shoulder at the very last crowd of patrons exiting Afterlife under an escort.

"Not a clue," said Daus. "We figured _you_ were more likely to know something, given all that clearance you have. Where's the lieutenant?" The turian craned his neck, searching the shoals of people for Zuria's distinctive armor.

"Forget the lieutenant," Malak grumbled. "Where the hell is _Aria?_ This is her main turf. If something's happened in her club I would've thought she'd be the first one on the scene."

They stood as dutiful sentinels for a time, keeping the curious from straying too close and redirecting all foot traffic past the property where Afterlife stood vacant of its usual clientele. Daus had been the first to spot Lieutenant Zuria as she emerged from the club, looking tremendously grave with her deep blue eyes clouded by repressed anxiety. When he pointed her out, Liselle removed herself from their company, explaining that she would accost Zuria, apprehend the reason for all the fuss, and report back with her findings.

Liselle winded through the commotion of bodies, heading toward Zuria at a hurried pace to compensate for the lieutenant now moving away from her and toward the common platforms where skycars continuously landed, delivered their passengers, and rose into the sky again. The maiden had almost ventured close enough to call out Zuria's name and expect a response, when the doors of one vessel lifted and produced the daunting figure of Aria T'Loak, bearing small cuts and bruises on her face, traces of dried blood upon her jawline, and fresher streaks marring the immaculate white of her jacket. While her presence caused all who saw her to shrink in submission, alarm and solicitude flooded Liselle the moment she saw her mother in such a state. The maiden kept moving forward, faster while slipping between two recently-arrived mercenaries. She monitored Aria's position and the long, purposeful strides she took in defiance of her highly disheveled presentation.

What Liselle initially interpreted as solemn poise was eclipsed by a startling reality. It was _anger_ that drove Aria forward; the seething glower held on her face growing deeper and darker with every coiled step she took. Liselle's eyes darted back to Zuria, inquiring about her reception of Aria, and found the lieutenant utterly rigid and stalled in the midst of taking a step backward. Aria was upon Zuria within a few short seconds.

"I step out for a few hours and you _let this happen?"_ Aria sneered at Zuria. When she arrived, a hand abruptly extended forward, seized Zuria beneath her jaw, and lifted her so that her toes lightly scraped against the ground, straining for purchase in a sudden whirlwind of panic. The hand wrapped around the lieutenant's throat nearly trembled from failing to contain the anger swelling within her body. "What the _fuck_ am I paying you for!?"

Zuria's hands fumbled around Aria's wrist. "I'm sorry," she gasped, "I-I'm _sorry_ , we were understaffed and no one ever saw something like this coming—"

" _I would have!"_ Aria exclaimed. "I see _everything_ that happens in there and anyone with an ounce of competence could've prevented this from happening!"

After a small grunt of pain left Zuria's throat, elicited by the bite of Aria's fingernails harshly digging into her skin, she muttered, although perhaps unwisely, "Just like you... Just like you saw Anikot poisoning you, huh?"

The fingers of Aria's free hand closed into a fist. She would've struck her lieutenant then, putting on a public display to illustrate what awaited insubordination or insolence, if Zuria had not caught sight of Liselle protruding from the coalescing crowd of spectators. Aria's gaze followed hers, coming to rest upon the shock and devastation present on her daughter's face. And Aria relented. She fumed, but gradually arrived at the decision to lower her fist. Zuria was dropped into a shaken stagger, while Aria uttered as if coldly persuading herself, "It's done. It happened, and it's done."

Aria stepped away from Zuria to address the gathered group of mercenaries, issuing them new orders. They scattered to carry out her will the very instant she finished speaking, unanimously fleeing the threat of her wrath. Meanwhile, Liselle was hazarding an approach. She stepped to Zuria's side as the lieutenant coughed once, leaning close to the ground while supported on her hands and knees. Liselle helped raise her from the shameful position, but Zuria responded to her aid by quietly stating that she should leave, that she shouldn't have seen what she had—

Before Zuria could finish, Aria had returned to retrieve her lieutenant. "Get in the car," she ordered Zuria, verbally seizing her from Liselle and indicating the vessel she had arrived in. Zuria obsequiously allowed herself to be stolen away, but Liselle hindered them.

"Will someone _please_ tell me what happened?" she demanded, her gaze oscillating from her mentor to her mother, who both retained their secrecy on the matter.

"It's nothing you need to worry about," answered Aria, already motioning for Zuria to follow while turning her back on Liselle. "Just some trouble with one of the dancers."

Fear struck Liselle like a bolt of lightning. "Is it Anthya?" she impetuously asked.

Her words caught Aria mid-stride and impelled her to turn around again, eyeing Liselle with bright, vivid interest. "How do you know her?"

Liselle shrugged, timidly concealing the story behind their true first encounter. "I just... I just started talking to her when I visited Afterlife. She's been a good friend to me. If something happened to Anthya I want to be told about it." The weakness of her voice steeled by the time she finished speaking, even as her eyes glistened.

Aria and Zuria exchanged an uncertain glance, setting aside their recent confrontation to tacitly evaluate the situation. At the end of a few seconds spent within intense consideration, Aria made her decision.

"She might know something," she reasoned aloud. "All right, Liselle. You're coming with us. But no one else. Get that pilot out of there."

Liselle followed them to the skycar on shaky legs, watching as Aria informed their pilot to vacate the vessel for their privacy. Zuria took the empty driver's seat while Aria sat down beside her, leaving Liselle to the back row of seats where she sat down on the center cushion, aspiring to insert herself into their conversation rather than hide behind either of them during the ride. After the doors shut and the engine's hum grew from its idling murmur, Liselle activated her omni-tool to send her apologies to Daus and Malak for breaking her promise that she would return to them with news. They rose from the platform and merged into the currents of traffic.

The interior of the skycar was veiled in unsettling silence for a time. The lingering tension between her mother and Zuria seemed to make the air feel palpably heavier, and just as equally dismal. It was not unreasonable to believe that Aria desired to remove Zuria from her administration, if her anger was a reliable gauge for such judgments. But she could not do so. So few lieutenants and high-ranking officers remained alive, and after the incident with Anikot, Aria had become far too suspicious of those around her to appoint any replacements. At this point, Zuria's tenure was acquired and perpetuated solely through the commodity of trust.

Liselle pensively stared her hands where they rested in her lap, periodically glazed by rays of light penetrating the darkly-tinted windows, until she amassed enough courage to quietly ask, "Is she okay?"

She heard Aria irately exhale. Zuria was the one who answered her.

"Someone tried to kill her," she uneasily replied to Liselle. "But she's alive. She was..." Zuria paused to swallow and assemble her words. When she noticed Aria leering at her, she censored herself. "She has a broken vertebra. I had her sent to Havlon, and so far he's said that her spinal cord is intact, with little to no inflammation. She's expected to recover."

Liselle's heart withered in despair.

"He's the only one I trust with her," Aria distantly remarked. She temporarily turned her head to the side, not looking at Liselle directly, but gesturing that she was about to address her. "He's the only one I'd trust with you too, if it came to that. We need to visit Anthya. That's where we're going right now. Disregarding any personal investments in this she _is_ a witness, and she's the only one to survive an assassination attempt carried out by our current enemy. Aside from myself of course, three times over now."

" _Three_ times?" Liselle hollowly echoed.

"You think I got these injuries from falling down or something?" Aria asked her. She knew how she presently appeared. Many had already seen her, and it was far too late to conceal her face or retain any discretion.

Liselle was speechless for the remainder of the ride. She was overwhelmed by the waves of terrible news, and her pain for Anthya was particularly acute. How could anyone deal violence unto a person so kind and generous at heart, so gentle and forgiving? Liselle recited the question over and over in her mind, pleading _why, why her?_ It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. Anthya hadn't deserved it. She deserved nothing but goodness in her life, yet now she lay hurt and sentenced to bedridden purgatory for an unknown tally of days. What transgression could have motivated the attack? Allegiance to Aria alone? It mattered not. She hadn't deserved it, Liselle grieved. She had not deserved it at all.

The three were quiet again for several minutes until Aria spoke to her lieutenant, issuing a flat statement that thickly belied its gravity. "Renaga's dead."

While both Zuria and Liselle stared at her in shock, only Zuria responded. "Goddess," she breathed. "I heard it didn't go well at the refinement plant, but... I never thought it went that badly." She immediately turned her attention back onto the skycar controls.

"I'll tell you more about Renaga later," said Aria. "Otherwise, a lot happened at the plant. My gunships were intercepted, the pilots killed, the ship CPUs hijacked, and placed back on their routes to kill us. And along with them they sent someone after me, _meant_ for me specifically. The Council's Spectre."

"The Spectre? That asari from the cab a while back? I thought you killed her."

"She's been dead a while, but someone keeps bringing her back. I think we're on track to finding out how." Aria pressed a hand to the control panel, prompting the rear-view camera to display. She left it running to periodically ensure they weren't being followed. "After I killed the Spectre again, I had my engineers and a medic take a look at her. Parts of her were still organic; most of the brain, heart, lungs, about half of the bones. And the rest was comprised of geth parts."

" _Geth?"_ Zuria repeated to clarify that she had heard correctly.

Aria nodded. "One of my engineers said that he'd heard black market rumors, but assumed they were only that—rumors—of deactivated geth platforms and parts being sold to wealthy tinkerers as no more than trophies or curiosities. There must be hunters or scavengers out there, skirting the edges of the Veil looking for old wreckage from the war between the geth and the quarians. I'm ordering an investigation, so we'll know soon. In addition to the geth, we found more armor prototypes in a maintenance tunnel I sent a dozen mercs through to search for possible escape routes the plant's occupants might have used to evade me. They lost the trail when the tunnel opened up into a larger complex linking several buildings together, but they brought back a pair of gloves. They're similar to what we found before, except this time, there were serial numbers on them. That means they're being mass produced, or shortly will come into production, possibly after they're done gathering data on this _experimental_ phase. If there's a big company out there supplying this group..." She let her sentence fade, incomplete, but its insinuation remained perfectly intact. If a corporation alongside Drialus Lorhan was funding a takeover of Omega, Aria suspected that her syndicate might have met its match in the realm of wealth, and therefore resources as well. Total and unabashed war loomed on the horizon. "I want him, Zuria," she direly continued. "I want Lorhan _."_

"They'll know you're after him," she cautioned Aria. "They'll know you've made him a target. They'll be waiting for you. His towers are already as fortified as our own bunkers."

"I know. That's why it won't be me going after him." Aria met Zuria's eyes. "The syndicates and triads of Omega are steadily going extinct, one after another. The survivors will be the ones who ally themselves with me, who prove useful to me. With that incentive in mind, I have a few ideas as to how we'll get Lorhan. We'll need to use the Eclipse."

An elaboration was postponed for a later time. Their skycar had arrived at Havlon's well-guarded clinic; humble compared to the massive hospital Liselle had visited the previous day, but functional and impressively maintained nonetheless. They traversed the halls, following Aria's haste as she navigated through the posted mercenaries, medics, and corridors filled with equipment until they found Havlon awaiting them in front of a patient room.

"How is she?" Aria accosted him.

He handed her a datapad. "Finished the blood work. Sedative was a nonlethal dose so we let her recover from it without intervention. Admittedly, it made it easier to perform all the scans. Identified a fracture in the cervical spine—one vertebra. Put a brace around the neck to restrict movement until the injury heals. When she regained consciousness we ran her through a few movement tests to confirm the scan results. No spinal cord damage. She's awake at the moment."

Aria scrolled through the file as Havlon spoke. "I need to see her," she said.

"Right through here." Havlon pressed his hand to the room's door panel. The red display flickered to green and they poured into the opened room. Liselle, being at the rear of their company, was forced to strategically position herself to see Anthya over their shoulders.

Anthya lay in a white bed in an equally sterile white room, with the sea of pallid sheets drawn up to mid-waist where she was propped up by pillows. As Havlon had informed them, a brace thinly lined in comfortable, breathable fabric restricted her from moving her neck and possibly aggravating her injury. But darkness pooled and stained the skin beneath her eyes, framing them in the exhaustion of having recently emerged from unnatural sedation. Confined to solitude, Anthya was left to dolefully reflect on her traumatic experience.

Liselle had never seen Anthya so deeply depressed. It crushed her spirits. She yearned to rush to her side and provide any comfort she could, to endlessly and irrationally apologize to her, as if Liselle spoke on behalf of the cruel and uncaring universe that submerged so many lives in misery.

Anthya caught sight of her visitors, and Aria in particular. Her face became a beacon of recognition, growing emotional and relieved to see that Aria had come. She weakly lifted her arms to receive her beloved Queen, who had pulled a chair to her bedside. Anthya's relief only morphed into distress when she rested a hand against Aria's cheek, where she found her many cuts and bruises, soon to heal, but marring her face in evidence of a battle that might have taken her life. A delicate sob escaped her lips, pitifully mourning their awful situation while unable to comprehend how such harm had found them both, how anyone could be so malevolent as to hurt someone as beautiful and glorious as Aria.

Liselle could hear the pain in her trembling voice as she uttered affectionate things to Aria too quietly for anyone else to interpret. Aria was gentle when she eased her back against the pillows, pacifying her anguish for the sake of her health. She remained possessively close to her dancer even when she turned back to address their additional company.

"Leave, all of you," she firmly told them. "I need to talk to her alone."

They retreated without objection. The last sight Liselle caught before leaving the room along with the doctor and Zuria was of their hands; Anthya's had slipped into Aria's, desperately seeking her reassurance. Aria did not deny her that comfort.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Liselle, like Zuria, was relegated to a short line of chairs outside Anthya's room while Aria conversed with her. For fifteen minutes they sat in silence, staring at the blank surfaces of the door and walls. Whenever Liselle stole glances to her left, she would find Zuria sitting erect with her hands lain upon her knees, tensely gripping them in disquiet, while her face had contracted a pale shade of green that revealed the illness pervading her body. Liselle could only surmise the guilt Zuria might have felt for allowing this to happen while Afterlife was under her supervision. It was good that they waited in a clinic, where Zuria had plentiful access to treatment if she happened to collapse or vomit from anxiety.

Meanwhile, Liselle fared just as badly, save for the nature of her despondency. She ached for everyone near her—Anthya, for her debilitating injury; Aria, for the compounded ordeals of having to fight for her life, losing her lieutenant, and nearly losing Anthya; and for Zuria, who carried the weight of responsibility and failure upon her faltering shoulders.

Several more minutes passed. Zuria's state did not improve. She only seemed greener and paler than she had before, tormenting herself without relent. Morbidly, Liselle wondered if Aria wished she had brought Zuria with her to the refinement plant while Renaga had guarded Afterlife instead, and she wondered if Zuria was considering the same grim supposition. Feeling immense sympathy for her, Liselle decided to speak, providing her a distraction from herself.

Liselle tentatively inquired, "Can you tell me more about what happened?"

Zuria expelled a fragile breath, turning her wide eyes upon the maiden. "I don't know if Aria would want me to say anything."

"I won't let her know. I promise."

The lieutenant's stare was maintained until she was able to muster the courage to speak. "Anthya was... she was hung, from maintenance, right below the VIP level. A bartender was also killed. Someone had... someone had wrapped a cable around Anthya's neck and dropped her down. That's how one of her vertebrae fractured. While one of the dancers on the platforms was able to cut her down fast, the bartender wasn't so fortunate. He fell all the way from maintenance to the lower level, and he died. We don't know what happened yet. Anthya was the only surviving witness."

Liselle's horror was apparent. "The bartender," she said with urgency. "What was his name?"

Zuria consulted her memory. "I... I think it was Kor-something. Korgath, Korgess. A batarian."

The maiden was on the cusp of erupting with an pained exclamation that she had known him, that Anthya had known him, and pitied her inevitable reaction upon finding out, when the door to Anthya's room opened. Aria stepped forward, looking no happier than she had before arriving at the clinic, and ran a speculative eye over both her lieutenant and her daughter. They were quieted by her presence.

Aria spoke, addressing Liselle. "She wants to see you," she said, sounding dubious of the message she relayed, but delivered it uncorrupted. "She saw you when we first entered the room and she told me that she'd like to talk to you."

Liselle never fathomed turning down the opportunity. When Aria stepped aside for her, leaving the doorway open and the room accessible for Liselle, she passed by her mother to find Anthya gazing at her, anticipating her company with a calmer aspect in her eyes than what had been present before, but retaining all her latent sorrows. The door shut behind her. Liselle carefully strode forward, breaching the sepulchral climate of the room before assuming the chair Aria had left at the bedside. She met Anthya's wet eyes. As with Aria, Anthya extended a hand to Liselle's, taking it into her own in search of interpersonal comfort. Liselle's throat felt unbearably tight. She couldn't speak. She parted her lips, trying to wrench out her verbal consolation, but no words left her.

Anthya gently stroked the back of Liselle's hand with a thumb, grateful for the simple pleasure of having the ability to do so, to see those persons who had grown dear to her over both long and short spans of time. Finally, she spoke to void their silence. "Would you like anything here?" she asked Liselle, gesturing to a small cart where a meal had been brought to her. Several items were missing from the tray. "I offered some to Aria earlier," Anthya commented, a tiny smile coming to rest on her lips. "Judging by how she looked, it was no wonder she was starving. Using her biotics must have really taken a toll on her. So much that she deigned to hospital food."

Liselle shook her head and quietly replied, "No thank you."

They were quiet for nearly another minute. When Anthya spoke up again, the semblance of mirth had faded from her voice and face. She sounded like a doomsayer. "This isn't a normal war, Liselle," she began. "Aria's fighting an enemy she can't see, can't find, can't even name. It's not conventional. Instead of gathering their forces and meeting ours to directly battle it out, they're going after the most important people in Aria's administration, her allies, people useful to her, and the ones she cares for. I've realized what they're trying to do to her. They're trying to drive her mad. They're trying to take everything away from Aria so her anger will start controlling her. That's where she'll start making mistakes. Now I know why it's unwise to let other people know that you've gotten close to Aria T'Loak." Anthya paused a moment, tightening her fingers around the maiden's in spite of the strength sapped from her body. "And you, Liselle... I know you're important to her. I just hope—truly hope—that no one comes after you, like they did me." A few fresh tears glided down Anthya's cheeks, traversing the curve of her jaw and beading against the brace about her neck.

Liselle respectfully remained silent, attentively listening to her account.

"When you left Aria alone with me," Anthya continued, "I told her everything I could remember. It was Bothan Korgess, Liselle. He... I followed him up there, willingly. I remember him stabbing me with something when I turned my back. A needle, in my neck. I tried to fight back but it happened too fast. I fell. I was awake, barely, but I couldn't move. I remember Bothan dragging me along into this cramped duct overlooking the club. He pulled out one of the sections of the floor, wrapped an electrical cable around my throat. And... he said to me that he was sorry. He said he was sorry that this had to happen, and he hoped I could forgive him one day, in the next life, in the afterlife. Then he pushed me out. But I brought him with me. You see, years ago Aria taught me something about biotics. If you're good, you can finely manipulate cords of energy with gestures, like an extension of your nervous system. And if you're _really_ good, you don't need to move at all. I was conscious enough to try. I managed to pull Bothan out of the duct with me and mitigate my own fall with a lift. Just enough to survive. I remember seeing him fall, smashing against the side of one of the catwalks before hitting the bar. Then the cable around me went taut. I heard a crack in my neck. I couldn't breathe; the cable was too tight. I just... I just remember hanging there in front of Aria's lounge, knowing she wasn't there, and praying the lieutenant was. But she wasn't. Right before I blacked out I felt myself being lifted again, biotically, toward the platforms. I'm told that Irsmeni was the one who cut me down." She managed to let out a soft breath of amusement. "I owe her my life, as much as I owe Aria."

"Holy shit," Liselle quietly breathed, hardly exceeding a whisper in volume. "He must have been the one who messed with Olat Dar'nerah! He must have taken care of the evidence before Aria got to him! But... how could he do that to you? And what could he have said to convince you to follow him up there?"

Shame rose to the surface of Anthya's features. "Bothan, he... He told me that he wanted to see me, in private, and... I interpreted it as an invitation."

"Anthya," said Liselle, her voice breaking. She sniveled, lifting a hand to her face in horror as she felt a surge of responsibility for the image her mind cruelly painted: Anthya dangling in front of the lounge's wide window, martyred, terribly alone and helpless with the pillar of hologram advertisements edging her limp body in magenta light. "I should have told you yesterday," she cried, "I had so many opportunities to say something and _I_ _didn't_ _—_ _!"_

"What are you talking about, Liselle?"

"Bothan wasn't interested in females. So I doubt he was interested in asari either."

Seeing that Liselle had begun to weep, Anthya released her hand to place hers upon the girl's cheek. "Liselle, it's okay. I'm sure he would've found another way to lure me up there. I liked him too much." She brushed Liselle's tears away, sounding distraught herself. "It's my fault alone. I got too close to him, told him too many things, told him how close I was to Aria... I let him identify me as a target. I should have never strayed from Aria. I should've never went looking for someone else. I wanted his attention because I knew that... I knew that Aria didn't love me as much as I did her, and I wanted it _so much_ that I went out searching for something to fill that void, but it was so _stupid_ of me. So stupid of me." She looked away from Liselle, despairing as she gazed out at her room. "I would do anything for Aria. Anything. Maybe if I had loved her more this wouldn't have happened to me."

Liselle looked upon the dancer in dismayed bewilderment at the conclusion she had drawn. The nuances of mature relationships might have been unfamiliar to her, and she was certainly in no position to analyze them, but she was aware and insightful enough to detect the glaring flaws in Anthya's logic. "Anthya," she softly said to her, beside herself with shock. "That's... _irrational_. This isn't a punishment for not loving Aria. This isn't _your_ fault. It's Bothan's." Anthya peered at Liselle as if she had been the one more so out of her mind. The look severely alarmed Liselle, prompting her to continue. "You're just not thinking straight right now... Something really terrible happened and you only need to rest a bit..."

"You don't understand," Anthya said. "Aria's done everything for me. Given me everything anyone could rightfully ask for. Whenever I keep near her I'm protected, I'm happy, and I... and I have _meaning_. And without her, things like this happen. It's as simple as that. You'll see what I mean one day." Her voice wavered, grown significantly dour, but she opened again with a new matter to address. "Liselle... I also have something I wanted to tell you, too. Something I _need_ to tell you. And I'm sorry, Liselle, I'm so sorry for doing this to you. I know I've made a friend of you, but... but it wasn't my original aim. When I learned that you were someone important, someone close to Aria, I thought to befriend you because I hoped that you might speak highly of me to her. I _used you_ , Liselle, and I'm so sorry for it. But please believe me when I say that I truly did enjoy your companionship. You're such a delightful girl and you didn't deserve to be lied to. I needed to tell you. I'm _so sorry_ , Liselle, I really hope we can still be friends, and I hope you don't hate me for this, but I understand if you do."

She was heartbroken. Liselle certainly did _not_ hate Anthya for it, but she felt the betrayal like needles in her chest, pitilessly piercing her with supreme dejection. What she had once regarded as her first genuine close friendship had been shattered in an instant, and it would take no small amount of time and effort to reassemble the pieces. But Liselle's personal devastation was not the only thing plaguing her. The lengths to which Anthya went to please Aria, to obtain her love, were not healthy by any standard. So grand and divine was the image of the Queen in her mind that she had assigned fault for the incident to the fact that she had not loved her enough, and therefore placed herself in a position vulnerable to punishment. She was consumed by Aria, completely, and it wrought havoc on her life, evinced by the sheen of her eyes, tears glistening down her cheeks; penitent and guilt-ridden in nature.

How long had Anthya lived within this corrosive mentality, and more importantly, why had Aria allowed it to persist as it had? Aria was frighteningly perceptive. This was not something that would slip her notice. No. Aria had known all along, and she consciously enabled it.

Anthya needed help. Liselle only found ironic and perhaps distasteful consolation in the knowledge that Anthya would be unable to see Aria for some time. The maiden prayed that she would be able to use her period of convalescence to reflect upon her perceptions and possibly mend her own psyche, but if she didn't, Liselle firmly resolved to intervene. It was clear to her that no one else would.

She spent the remainder of her visit with Anthya assuring her that there was no animosity between them, and that Liselle would instead stop by soon to bring her flowers, or a treat, or send her some of her favorite e-books to dispel any monotony she would suffer. All while taking great care to conceal her lasting hurt, so that Anthya might peacefully rest a while, removed from the echo of her wrongs.

When Liselle emerged from the room she found Zuria awaiting her. Aria had left as soon as she obtained the information she needed from Anthya, leaving Zuria behind to escort Liselle home and to relay a message for her, phrased diligently within the walls of the clinic, "Aria says to expect company when you return to your apartment, around an hour from now. Someone important."

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

While waiting for the described important someone, which had translated easily into Aria herself, Liselle occupied herself with finishing her morning task of tidying her kitchenette. The mindless work helped keep her hands busy and her mind empty, and ultimately, her unease at a relative and manageable minimum. She scrubbed her sink spotless, but was so determined to repel complex thought that she went over it again, until the metals shone pristinely.

Her door opened an hour into her cleaning, producing Aria just as predicted. She had taken the time to wash herself of old blood and Omegan grime, now appearing remarkably healthier, yet her shallow cuts and the small bruise on her cheekbone would remain indelible over the course of several days. Liselle dropped the contents of her hands into the sink to greet her with silence, discreetly wiping the beads of water and soap away on her thighs. Her eyes lowered to something carried in Aria's hand. A black plastic bag, unassuming and all the more striking because of it.

They sat down at her table, quieted by the tumultuous day. Whatever Aria intended to tell her was delayed for when she was ready, following a period of austere rumination, during which she folded her legs beneath the table, folded her hands atop it, and stared into space.

Liselle, on the other hand, had her grievances prepared. With Anthya freshly on her mind, and with Aria accessible and her attention obligated to her daughter for a time, Liselle inhaled slowly, deeply, as if drawing vaporous courage into herself.

"You should treat Anthya better," she said.

Aria's eyes flicked to hers, torn away from their pensive stare. She regarded her without perceivable reaction, but when she responded, her offense leaked through her tone. "You want me to treat Anthya _better?"_

The maiden hardened her gaze.

Hands disengaged for fingers to tap themselves on the table between them. Aria calmly assembled a reply. "So you want me to treat Anthya _better_ , beyond everything I already give her? Obscenely lax working hours without reducing her pay, limitless free drinks, housing already paid in full, and my personal protection? And you think I'm wrong in not giving her _more?"_

"I know you have a... relationship," Liselle told her. "I know it's hurting her."

She stopped tapping her fingers. "I'm not going to ask how you found that out. But your advisement has no place here, Liselle. Do not _advise_ me on a matter you know nothing about. How Anthya reacts to me is her decision alone, not mine. Not once have I _ever_ forced her to do anything, to think anything, or to feel anything in specific. She's an adult, Liselle. She can make her own judgments."

"But you're _hundreds_ of years older than her, and you know _way_ better what's going on, what you're doing to her—"

"I will not talk about my personal life with you," Aria resolutely stopped her, exasperated by her prying. "That's not why I'm here. I'm here for something far more important. Recent events, discoveries we've made just today, about what's out there and what might happen in the future, have forced my hand in making certain plans and arrangements if the very worst comes to pass. I'm not saying that I expect to lose. Not at all. But even I've been wrong in past, and the situation warrants that I take a few actions in countermeasure." She retrieved a tablet from the low partition separating the kitchenette from the front room, slipping out its stylus to begin writing a few lines in a blank document. When she finished, she turned the tablet in Liselle's direction, placing it on the table so she could read the contact information. Aria pointed to the tablet and continued speaking, arresting Liselle's attention anew, along with her confusion. "If in the highly unlikely case that the worst _does_ come to pass and you find yourself in need of aid or asylum... I want you to contact the current asari councilor and tell her who you are. If I'm gone, she'll be the only one you can trust with your identity. She _will_ help you. Tell no one else, Liselle. No one."

She was stunned, opening her mouth several times but no words ever came out, until she cast a bewildered look at her mother, found her voice, and inquired, "Why would a _councilor_ help us?"

"It would be too complicated to explain," said Aria, sounding remote. "And you've never known asari politics. This is far more commonplace than you would think."

Still confounded and surprised, Liselle asked nothing more and copied the information to her omni-tool. She hid it well and labeled it ambiguously. Once she had finished, Aria lifted the black bag she brought with her, placing it on the table and retrieving the contents from its depths. "My second order of business," she stated, "is giving you these." She laid the items out for Liselle: a leather-bound booklet and a holodisk.

Liselle recognized them immediately.

She reached out in caution, as if wary of the possibility that Aria might be so wicked as to rescind her offer if she did not seize custody of the items in time. After she had taken them, Liselle brought them down into her lap where she beheld them, fascinated. She opened the booklet in haste, flipping through the pages to find them punctuated by numerous rough edges where entries had been torn out. Evidently, Aria had already thoroughly dissected Samesia's belongings and censored them as she felt appropriate. But at this point Liselle cared very little. So much information was now held in her hands. Information about her early childhood, from what she gleaned while watching the words flicker by her eyes. She wanted to cry, but held back her tears to ask her mother, "Why are you giving me this?"

Aria was forced to withdraw into her thoughts to retrieve a truthful answer. Her full story was truncated time and time again, edited to its bare bleached bones after being stripped of all concerns revolving around mortality and contingency. She softly exhaled when her answer was ready, and delivered it simply, "Because it matters to you."

Liselle beamed. She pushed herself up from her chair, rounded the table, and wrapped her arms around Aria, mindful of her injuries while muttering _thank you_ into her shoulder. Aria peeled her away when Liselle inadvertently agitated the wound at her side, protected by bandaging but still very much vulnerable to pressure. She instead held Liselle's shoulders tenderly and said to her, "Liselle... I'm not giving you everything you asked of me. I won't do that, ever, and my reasons are my own. But I'm giving you, in there, everything I'm willing to." She tapped the booklet held in her daughter's hand with an index finger. "Everything I think you have the right to know without causing harm to yourself or to me. And when you're done with that, Liselle, you need to destroy it. Don't hide it under your mattress, don't put it in a box and store it in your closet, don't even lock it away in a safe. I want you to _burn it_. Do you understand me?"

A reluctant nod was given. While Liselle greatly preferred that she keep the booklet for future reference, she understood the reason behind Aria's command. Any physical evidence of her parentage was a deadly liability, and no matter how precious a possession might have been, no trinket or bit of paper was worth either of their lives.

"And don't ever forget, Liselle; by keeping this for so long, Samesia Trakas has committed a serious crime against us. One I will _never_ absolve her for. I know you feel strongly about her death and I understand. But you can't let that fact slip your mind. She put you in danger for _fifty years_." Aria stroked her thumb against Liselle's shoulder, keeping their gazes locked together until the girl made a sign that indicated her comprehension. Once she had, Aria released her, but not without first issuing a reminder, " _Burn it_ , Liselle. Nothing less."

"I will," she promised.

Aria left her then, rising from her seat and allowing her fingers to brush down her arms in a subtle display of affection, before she turned, made for the door, and departed without another word. The moment Liselle found herself alone, her fingers stumbled against the covers of the booklet, clumsily prying it open with such vigor and excitement that she nearly dropped it. She flipped to the first page while dashing to her room, taking the holodisk with her, and sat down at the edge of her bed where she began reading the entries jotted onto each page in a brisk, clear hand:

.

17.5.2027  
Aria scheduled, or rather ordained, an appointment with me today. I believe her exact words were, "Get it out of me. Now." I sympathize with her situation, I do. How much she must fear the outcome of this, since it wouldn't contribute to the health of her organization in any form. If anything, it would only be deleterious. Although I understood her distress and urge to take drastic action, I advised her to seriously contemplate her options. The procedure, especially when performed just weeks after conception, poses the most danger. I told her of the risks: possible nerve damage, future infertility, and even paralysis or death in worst cases. Our bodies just weren't meant for this procedure. We generally never needed it. I didn't tell her, but I feel that this entire ordeal is a product of recklessness and poor judgement. She knew she was compromising her agency. And for what? It wasn't worth it, it really wasn't. And now she could potentially die or end up in a wheelchair for the rest of her life if this procedure goes awry. Where does that put the rest of us? I'm very apprehensive. I'm not sure how we're going to handle this.

20.5.2027  
Aria has made it clear time and time again that she doesn't want to have this baby. She doesn't want to carry to term, nor does she want it due to its... disagreeable parentage. But behind all her invective and adamancy to go through with the procedure I keep seeing glimpses of something I can only characterize as fear within her. I think she's very concerned about the risks I forewarned her about. Of course she'll never admit to it, but privately, Aria truly does fear injury and death. I think she's starting to weigh her options. There are ways we can go about this while preserving utmost secrecy. I should make a list of viable alternatives she could take instead of aborting the pregnancy.

2.6.2027  
I showed Aria my list of ideas. If she decides to go through with the pregnancy, we could explain her absence from Omega by feigning illness. It's not the most ideal cover, but it would work. After that, what she does with the baby is completely her choice. I highly recommend sending her off Omega for adoption, but Aria frowned and dismissed the idea. I think she detests the notion of some anonymous stranger rearing her own flesh and blood. Aria could also keep the infant for herself, but that would involve a tremendous amount of coordination and work if she's to raise her on Omega. The child would require caretakers, tutors, pediatricians, bodyguards, biotic mentors... It would be a nightmare, and even more so to keep everyone quiet about it. I listed a third solution. One that honestly chills me. Aria could relinquish the infant to me upon birth, and I could, in theory, very quickly and cleanly obviate the problem through euthanasia, if I might use that term in place of less delicate ones. The child would feel no pain, no suffering, and we could all simply forget that any of this ever happened.

8.6.2027  
Aria made a decision today. It wasn't her complete decision, but at least it was something. She wants to go through with the pregnancy. What she'll want to do with the baby afterward is anyone's guess, but at least she has about eighteen more months to figure it out. For now, she's still out running with her mercenaries whenever she feels the need and she'll continue doing so for as long as she can, until she starts showing. Although it might be worth mentioning that I haven't seen a drink or a cigarette in her hand since the day she found out. Aria needs to keep her options open, I'm sure.

13.6.2027  
This morning was Aria's first checkup appointment with me. I did blood work, asked her how she was feeling, both physically and emotionally. She wasn't of much help when I asked her those questions, but her blood work seems normal and healthy. She only has another month before she'll have to retire from all forms of combat, and from her lounge in Afterlife as well. We can't risk anyone noticing or suspecting. Aria is frustrated by this, referring to it as a prison sentence, but she's going through with it out of necessity.

4.7.2027  
I'm still in shock from the news but... today Aria decided to keep the baby. She's already begun making arrangements, compiling dossiers for potential caretakers and guards. She's refrained from telling me her reasons, but I believe she has a long-term goal in mind. Maybe Aria recognized this as an opportunity to produce an heir, someone to inherit Omega and her fortunes while perpetuating her name. This could be the beginning of an entire dynasty, if everything works out well.

7.7.2027  
Aria's been surprisingly content ever since she made her decision. She admitted that she never expected she'd become a parent. I think the idea is growing on her, slowly. Maybe it's the hormones—that tends to happen, from my experience in maternal care. Or maybe it's just Aria being Aria, ever pragmatic about opportunity.

18.7.2027  
I've been helping her screen candidates for caretakers over the past week, but she's grown pensive lately, keeping to herself most of the time, saying just a few words each day to the point where her voice nearly sounds hoarse when she dismisses her commandos. Yesterday I caught her perusing an extranet site. Baby clothes. Her jaw was stiff and she looked intense, as if the sight of those tiny garbs challenged her, intimidated her. I've never seen her so apprehensive about anything, but she's entirely devoted. She's risen to the occasion.

5.8.2027  
We've decided on a caretaker staff. There's twelve people in total, including myself, who will be employed in raising her daughter. Plus a biotic tutor some day, bringing the ultimate total to thirteen. Iaera Kasantis seemed an unlikely candidate at first, for the position of the baby's main caretaker. I thought Aria would prefer to keep her siphoning intelligence from the Traverse, but Iaera has some experience in mothering. She once had two daughters, but both died as children from a rare inherited genetic disorder, poor things. Iaera never tried having children again. But Aria interviewed her and found her suitable for the job (I have to wonder if she arranged this on purpose). I hope this experience will ease some of the pain Iaera might carry from losing her biological offspring. A mother is still a mother, whether she lives on Thessia or Omega.

12.9.2027  
Aria named her baby today. "Liselle". It's a pretty name—a cute name, I'd think, albeit a bit removed from what I expected from Aria. Not because it's cute, necessarily, but because it was chosen affectionately, with a preconceived notion of what her daughter will be once she's born. It's a name given by someone who loves its recipient.

.

Liselle encountered the stubs of many missing pages. Entire months were absent from the booklet, torn out by Aria to obliterate them from record and Liselle's awareness. In her mounting impatience and engrossment, Liselle flipped past the sparse, stripped entries where many had been weeded out, jumping ahead to the final pages of the booklet to see where Samesia's records ended.

.

14.6.2029  
Liselle's healthy. That's what seems to matter most to Aria these days. Today while I was giving Liselle her periodic checkup she fussed to no end and remained inconsolable until Aria picked her up and had me finish while she held her. I never would've thought Aria would be so natural a mother. She always seems to know exactly what Liselle wants when she cries. She knows how to hold her, how to calm her, and how to get her to fall asleep within minutes. Not even Iaera can compete with her when she takes care of the girl. It's a pity that Aria will have me destroy all my records in a few years. It'll be hard to part with them. But they won't be completely lost. Aria wants copies of the holodisks for herself, and only herself, and I'm to provide them.

20.12.2029  
Liselle's personality has been blooming lately, becoming more apparent with every passing week. She's a needy child. She's been that way ever since she was born. It might be presumptuous at this point, but I'm growing inclined to start taking more detailed notes of behavioral patterns. I think the diagnosis of an emotional disorder might be within the near future, but I need to make sure it's not just a developmental phase she's going through. Aria won't be happy to hear my suspicion. And I honestly feel like she exacerbates the problem at times. Liselle cries, a lot and over small things, and when Aria's around she always answers her instead of denying Liselle when appropriate. She loves her baby, but she's being too indulgent. Liselle is learning that crying to her mother will always get her what she wants, and that's not good behavior to reinforce. And Aria's frequent absence only makes Liselle more difficult for Iaera to handle. The girl wants her mother, always, and no one else seems to suffice.

.

The rest of the pages were missing. Liselle had not read all of them, and there were many more to study, but the mention of the holodisk she possessed redirected her attention to its presence beside her on the bed. She scooped it up in her hand, approached her monitor, and inserted it into the small drive. After retreating back to the edge of the bed where she perched herself upon it in anticipation, Liselle watched as the monitor flickered and suspended the shimmering hologram image within its borders.

The first images of the vid were of measuring tape being manipulated and held by whoever was simultaneously capturing the recording. The field of view lifted, bringing the unmistakable outline of Aria into its frame, but her jacket was absent and in its place was an unremarkable black undershirt, drawn up to her ribs to reveal her abdomen, which carried a swell humble enough to be overlooked if she was only spared a quick glance, but when scrutinized for any longer than a few seconds, it would be obvious to anyone remotely familiar with asari reproduction that she was with child. Aria held herself as proudly as ever, showing no visible sign of inconvenience while appearing expectant of her doctor's evaluation.

_"Two centimeters more since last time,"_ said a voice—Samesia's. She was noting the change on a tablet. _"Smaller than average, but still within a healthy range. What are you going to do when you get large enough that your back starts hurting?"_

Aria scoffed. _"Fuck you. I'd still kick your ass and throw you around any day of the week."_ Fortunately for Samesia, humor lightly fringed her tone. She turned away from her, seeming to grow pensive as she gripped the edges of the shirt hiked up over her stomach and eased it back down, where her hand remained against the gradual slope. There was an faint aspect of tenderness in the way she brushed her fingertips over herself while returning her shirt to its normal fit, lingering there as if greeting and examining the warmth that emanated from her flesh.

The brief clip ended, but transitioned into another with just a second's pause of darkness separating them.

Liselle heard Samesia's voice before she was even able to interpret the events or whereabouts of the current scene. _"There she is,"_ Samesia said. There was breathless excitement in her voice. _"Here's Liselle."_

She turned the omni-tool's camera, framing the sight of Aria propped up in bed, looking weary but otherwise functionally lucid. Her newborn was cradled in her arms, wrapped in a clean white blanket and held to her breast as she nursed her. The moisture and redness in Aria's eyes causing her to appear on the verge of tears was particularly jarring, brought on by the compounded effects of exhaustion and a flood of maternal hormones pounding through her veins, to which not even she was impervious. It would forever be a mystery as to what cognitions she had entertained at that depicted moment. She looked like hell, but there was a subtle quality in her features disclosing a mixture of relief and the perplexing delirium of finding her womb suddenly bereft and her arms now filled in balancing compensation.

_"How do you feel?"_ Samesia asked Aria, sounding curious and intent on understanding her outlandish cocktail of emotions.

Aria shook her head, maintaining a crease her in brow as she shared the inexplicable truth, _"Like I want to get pregnant again, immediately. Even if it's the very last thing I'd actually ever want."_ She seemed patently disturbed by her own nonsensically swirling instincts.

_"Every first-time asari mother reacts a bit differently. I've heard stranger things before. It's perfectly normal and should pass within a few hours. For now I'd just advise some rest; it might be a long night. The first ones tend to be."_

_"Wonderful,"_ Aria dryly replied, turning back to her daughter to brush away and tuck in a loose corner of the blanket beginning to intrude upon the infant's face.

_"So, for the record,"_ Samesia began again, _"Liselle was born about twenty minutes ago... Aria had an easy birth, no complications, mostly just discomfort. She took fantastic care of herself during her pregnancy and it's paying off."_

_"Not one glass, not one cigar, not one dessert,"_ Aria clarified the extent of her self-discipline.

_"How long do you think you were in labor?"_ Samesia asked her. _"I only arrived about an hour ago."_

Aria looked at her, sifting through her bleary thoughts to recall the day. _"I honestly wasn't watching any clocks, but I'd estimate about four or five hours. But I knew it'd be today. I knew since this morning."_

_"You knew she was coming?"_

She calmly nodded, confident in her claim.

Samesia could be heard flipping through some notes. _"Let's see,"_ she continued, _"Liselle was a little underweight. She might grow up to be a bit on the small side, or it may not have much bearing on her adult stature at all. But she's perfectly healthy otherwise. She has all her fingers and toes, and the fronds of her crest are symmetrical and should grow into place well. In my professional opinion, the circumstances at the time of conception haven't resulted in any defects that I've been able to detect."_

Aria allowed a long exhale to depart her, then stated quietly and profoundly, _"If I had fucked her up... I don't even know what the hell I would've done."_ She gazed down at her daughter again, gently easing her away from her breast before offering her the other, to relieve one side of her chest and equally distribute the mild discomfort. She softly ran her knuckles against the side of Liselle's face, swept up by the chemicals and stimuli of her motherhood as she looked upon her baby with protective, devoted affection. Her love was easily descried, endless and dominating all other processes within her mind.

The vid ended, transitioning into yet another taken many months later. It was in one of the apartments where Liselle had spent the earliest years of her childhood. One of the bedrooms was identified as the location of the vid, and within the frame stood Aria, hunched over enough to grasp the hands of her daughter, who wobbled upon her feet as she attempted to stand and stride upon them autonomously. Aria helped walk her forward, periodically glancing over her shoulder to ensure that Samesia was still recording the milestone in Liselle's life. At one point she released her hands, letting the little girl try the difficult feat on her own. A step was taken on tiny feet clad in dark blue socks, then another, but her short journey ended when she faltered. Before Liselle tumbled onto the carpeting she was enveloped by a pale blue glow, catching her mid-fall and placing her back upon her feet. Aria took her hands, steadied her, and allowed her to try again.

This time, when Liselle was freed from the balance her mother provided, she eagerly strode forward two steps, then two more. She swayed, but did not fall. Upon realizing the utility of her new skill, Liselle turned, faced Aria again, and started smiling excitedly. Aria knelt before her, uttering praise as she kissed the girl on her cheek and gathered her into her arms again. When she lifted her from the floor, however, Liselle spontaneously began to protest, squirm, and reach downward with her hands, yearning to resume her brave paces.

The holodisk reached the end of its recordings, leaving Liselle to sit before the blanked monitor in a thoughtful daze, breathing deeply while her eyes had grown wet. Before she could even begin to wrap her mind around all the information she had been exposed to, the monitor abruptly came to life again with text accompanied by narration: _"Liselle Kasantis, identification confirmed,"_ the computer reported. _"View encrypted files?"_

Liselle was surprised by the message. Apparently, Samesia had left something behind on the disk reserved for Liselle's eyes alone, and the fact that its existence was only revealed when played in her presence meant that Aria had not likely been aware of it, and therefore was denied the chance to review and censor it. That Samesia had hidden it away even from Aria alarmed Liselle, but not nearly enough to deter her from viewing the guarded vid.

"Yes," she said, "Play."

At her command Liselle was shown the hidden files. She was introduced to a vid of significantly lesser quality than the previous ones, for a reason Liselle could only guess was due to a different recording device. She could see the blurry, slightly-pixelated outlines of furniture populating an apartment's front room entrance, and the kitchen lied beyond. Light was seeping in from the window above the sink.

There was an audible commotion muddying the already degraded sound quality. Iaera emerged from the hallway, coming into view while carrying a very young Liselle, who was clumsily waving her arms about as she tried to pivot herself around to curiously investigate the source of the rising din. Over the baby's unique language of small gurgled sounds Iaera paused to inform Samesia, while apparently unaware that she was being filmed, _"I'm taking her out for a bit, but I think you'd better stay. This doesn't look good."_

_"Understood. Don't go too far, though."_

_"I won't,"_ replied Iaera. She then sweetly turned to Liselle, trying to quell her fussing by telling her, _"We're going for a little walk outside, okay, Liselle?"_

They left, leaving Samesia in the front room as she continued recording the indistinct voices carrying through the hall and reaching her position. Liselle was only able to make out certain words.

_"What the fuck, Aria?"_ she heard. _"Have you lost your mind?"_

_"I told you to tell no one! No one!"_

While Liselle was unable to assign an identity to the first voice, she had heard the second so often that the pace of speech and inflections allowed her to instantly recognize it as Aria's.

_"I only told her that I had a daughter and her name was Liselle! I hadn't seen her in—"_

_"I said_ no one! _She's_ my _daughter and I told you to say nothing that could—"_

The sound quality dropped for a time, rendering a few seconds completely incoherent. When the audio recovered, it remained choppy for a time.

_"Why are you so damn paranoid... bit excessive for an accident... We were on some ugly shit,_ evil _shit—"_

_"Shut your fucking mouth! I don't want you ever coming within five kilometers of her again, and if you ever do_ —"

Again, the voices were begrimed by electronic corruption.

_"...didn't have a problem when you were slapping me in the face, telling me harder—"_

The sentence was cut short by two loud thuds and a shout.

_"You're a fucking psychopath! You're sick, you're fucking sick—!"_

Another thud, imbued by the hallmark rippling of biotics. There came a shriek and additional sounds of biotics that indicated an attempt had been made in defense. More struggling commenced for several seconds until a bang jolted both Samesia and the modern Liselle. It hadn't been a gunshot, but the sound of a body smashing against a wall, seeming to rattle the entire apartment. Liselle strained to hear the voices arise again, diminished to conceal what was said, but loud enough for her to identify their nature as gasps of pain and surrender. When they too ceased completely, there was silence.

Aria's outline emerged from the hall, pausing only to acknowledge that Samesia remained. Her forearms were bloodied, smeared generously in violet. She said nothing, turning toward the kitchen where she composedly ventured. Water ran into the sink, and Aria began washing her hands and arms clean. When she had finished, Aria dried herself and lifted a hand to her communicator. _"Iaera,"_ she said, speaking as if nothing of consequence had transpired. _"You can bring her back in now."_ While she waited, Aria leaned forward against the sink, resting on her arms as she gazed through the window and idly crossed her legs.

Iaera returned within a minute. She strode past the field of view and into the kitchen where she transferred Liselle to the waiting arms of her mother, who took her, rested her head against her shoulder, and held her close. Liselle's bright eyes rested on Samesia, and her stare was met by that of her future self, peering into the past. Pacified and comforted by her mother's embrace, the young Liselle's eyes gradually dimmed, facilitated further when Aria lightly swayed and bounced on her heels, gently producing motion that would send her off into sleep. Aria said sweet things to her daughter, stating almost with reverence that Liselle was the only innocent creature left on Omega, and would remain that way if Aria could exert control over such things.

Once Liselle was soundly asleep in her arms, Aria spoke to Samesia softly as to not wake the girl, _"Clean up the mess in the bedroom. You'll probably need to get her to a surgeon. I think she'll live, but if she doesn't, I honestly couldn't care less."_

The recording ended, but spared a shocked and horrified Liselle not a moment of reflection before it cut once again.

This time Liselle could enjoy a vid of a vastly superior quality than the previous furtive one. It depicted a couch set against a wall, with the fronds of a potted plant encroaching upon the field of view at the very left corners. Samesia Trakas stepped in front of her mounted camera, alive and well. She took a seat on the couch before extending a hand to adjust her recording device, bringing herself squarely and professionally in the center of the captured frames. She drew in a measured breath, gathering her nerves, and spoke. " _Hello, Liselle. My name is Doctor Samesia Trakas, and the current year is 2053, so you should be around twenty-five years of age at this time. I was the one who monitored your mother throughout her pregnancy and acted as your pediatrician until you were about eight years old. Once you turned four I saw you seldom, so I doubt you remember much of me. After I stopped being your doctor, your mother transferred me to the Eclipse as a medic, along with several other capable physicians as a sign of concord between her and Jona Sederis. As you've likely noticed by now, I've kept copies of the records Aria once ordered me to destroy. I did this because I wanted insurance. That was my original intention. I wanted a weapon to use against Aria if she ever tried to kill me... like she did so many others, Liselle. There were twelve of us when you were born. Now there's only six, and that number is still diminishing, and might be close to zero by the time you see this recording. That weapon, for my defense... It would've been you. The threat of your capture. Perhaps even your death."_

Samesia paused, growing immensely contrite and forcing herself to continue her confession. _"And I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. It's taken me years to realize that I'd be no better than Aria to use you like this, so selfishly. You've done nothing wrong, Liselle. How could I ever sacrifice an innocent child to preserve my own life? I was... I was simply terrified of her. I was ready to do whatever I needed to survive, but not like this. I was wrong, I was so wrong in thinking this could be my solution. So, instead... I hope to bring this to you one day. I plan to find you once you're sixty. A child, but... but mature enough to see and understand the importance of my records, plus the two I made unbeknownst to Aria. I had to compress and embed the extra vids in another file so Aria wouldn't notice and try to decrypt them. I needed to make sure these would get to you intact. I needed you to see the deaths of some of the staff, the way Aria nearly murdered your father that day... You need to know what she does. And I know it hurts, I know it's not easy. But you need to know the truth. I wish you the very best, Liselle. It was a delight to be a part of your life. I hope that someday we might meet again, so I can see the proud and confident person you've grown into. Goodbye."_

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

After a long night spent huddled beneath her sheets, reading through Samesia's booklet multiple times and watching the vids again an equal amount, chiseling their contents deeply into the walls of her memory, Liselle brought them to her small fireplace fitted with false logs and embers made from concrete, gently laid down her items upon them with the solemnity of a funeral pyre, and turned a small dial on the wall. Jets of blue and red flame ignited the steady influx of gas, wrapping around the holodisk and booklet and cradling them in destruction. Liselle sat down before the fireplace, drawing a blanket around her frame as she watched the disk melt and drip onto the concrete while the pages of the booklet curled and blackened. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

She didn't know what to feel. Malaise ate at her. She felt loved and comforted, yet alone and deceived all at once, constantly, eternally, arising from all corners of her life.

Liselle now knew something about her parentage that she hadn't before. She had been borne not from love, but from hatred; a closeness incited by the medium of drugs that had stripped minds of sober intolerance and essentially forced a child upon her mother. One she hadn't wanted, one she had initially despised by blood and burden alone. At one point in time her existence had precariously teetered on the very tip of a knife. But in the end, Aria had kept her and loved her with everything she was. That mended her wounds, but an echo still remained, haunting her, following her into oblivion.

_Child of hatred_ , she whispered in her head as the smell of burning leather filled her nose. The dawn of the next day was approaching, but she retired to bed where she slept restlessly, visited by nightmares of frightening insect species who devoured their mates alive, and the face of one who she prayed wasn't her father.


	29. The Two Liars

The sinking fear that had gripped Tevos's heart the moment Aria abruptly terminated their call to face a deluge of heavy gunfire had plagued her for hours.

A call sent to Shiala and her associates to inquire whether they were in a position to provide any aid was answered negatively. An approach would not only compromise their cover, but also place them in the crosshairs of both Aria's mercenaries _and_ the gunships for being a third party universally presumed as hostile to each side. Responsibly, Tevos advised them to retreat, but upon carrying out her will Shiala's group lost all visual surveillance of the swiftly-escalating fray. For several excruciating hours, the situation on Omega eluded her entirely.

Tevos had restlessly sifted through her work for the remainder of the day, scarcely able to tend to any of it properly while frothy crests of worry and helplessness steadily deteriorated her great cliffs of composure. Just minutes before she left her office Tevos received a call, and when she saw Aria's name in the display of her omni-tool, she reacted by closing her eyes and exhaling in tremendous relief.

Aria, sounding a bit rushed and breathless, opened by stating that much had been learned from her close encounter with another of her enemy's tricks; items of information that would need to be expressly discussed at the soonest available opportunity. The councilor agreed without hesitation. Utilizing vagueness and coded words to safeguard against interception, they scheduled their next meeting to occur in two days at midnight precisely.

A few minutes had been spent reclining in her office chair, reflecting on her own relief to have heard from Aria in a timely manner. Tevos feared that if she had not, she wouldn't have slept at all that night, stricken by the anxieties of ignorance. Tevos wished health and success unto Aria with an affection she most often reserved for her dearest friends and family. With some surreal awe, Tevos realized that Aria had perhaps become closer to her than anyone else currently in her life, so suddenly, over just a little more than a month's time. Shared adversity had certainly bound them more tautly together than concordance ever could. Between them they now shared a substantially greater well of knowledge, powers, and resources, consistently pulling themselves from the edge of disaster by the anchoring weight of the other. To Tevos, it brought the sense of tightly linking arms to weather a vicious tide, where one stumbled and spun at times, but always the other of their pair remained ever-present on well-founded steps to retrieve and return them both to balance.

The next work day yielded a call from Nerava, bearing news that brought a hand partially eclipsing Tevos's face out of exasperation as she conversed with her relative. Apparently, the family had decided to make themselves a generous stockholder in Armax Arsenal, a move undoubtedly facilitated by Kylris Estulius. This time, it was far too late for Tevos to attempt dissuading Nerava, and it was ironically _good_ that it was too late, for Tevos feared that she hadn't the patience nor the strength to caution her for the thousandth time. Instead she yielded to what she deemed a brash, miscalculated decision, and simply expressed to Nerava that she dearly hoped she knew what she was doing.

Soon after, another call came in from Shiala, representing Benezia and Medora simultaneously when stressing the need for a private conversation through which she could safely relay news originating from the matriarchs. Coincidentally, Shiala's message seemed just as urgent as Aria's, persuading Tevos into scheduling a meeting on the same day she would meet with her Omegan contact, yet at a much earlier hour set immediately after Tevos returned home so their appointments would not overlap. Fortunately, Shiala always presented herself well and would not register to the common Citadelian eye as threatening. Shiala could profess herself a house guest, and while Tevos's personal security would be on their highest guard and subject to some apprehension due to their councilor's guest not being of well-known friends or family, they would allow it, and Shiala would not be forced to prowl around the premises under the cover of night and crawl through the window like Aria had to.

It was, however, monumentally inconvenient when Tevos was contacted by Falteus that same day, vying for nothing short of a dinner date on the evening where her plans lied in wait. A hand had gravitated to her forehead whilst speaking with him as the other navigated her schedule, checking to see if the interval between her meetings with Shiala and Aria could possibly accommodate another activity. The opportunity was not to be wasted. While it might have been wiser to request moving their dinner to another night, Tevos was uncertain of whether it would translate into disinterest, even if she provided a perfectly reasonable excuse. She found the risk unfavorable, and after some quick math, found three hours to be a very adequate amount of time to afford a simple dinner date.

When that evening arrived, positively bursting with events, Tevos welcomed Shiala into her study where they immediately settled into vital discussion.

"There was... dialogue between Asari High Command and the Turian Hierarchy," Shiala opened, her hands stiffly lain upon the armrests of one of Tevos's chairs. Though she sat upon quality cushions, she may as well have been seated on an uneven bed of nails, judging by the disquiet in her posture and gestures. She glanced at the councilor, who eyed her under gentle evening-feeble light with profuse attention and an aspect resembling the first seeds of apprehension. "Apparently, the two governing entities had been engaging in talks regarding the division of Omega resources once... once occupation by proxy was established."

Tevos replied after pausing to comprehend the information, "Well, I was aware of High Command's proposal to insert a new leader in the event of Aria's death, but... why in the universe would the Hierarchy be involved?"

"From what Matriarch Medora told Matriarch Benezia—who informed me—the Primarchs were interested in using Omega as an appreciable foothold in the Terminus Systems, if we ever entered true war with those territories," Shiala continued, gravely. "Their motives were highly militaristic, which came as no surprise. Whereas High Command was interested in this colonial-style cultural influence; the idea of gradually domesticating Terminus territories to reflect the culture of Council space. This wasn't surprising either. Both were different solutions to the same problem. I'd name them our culprits if Matriarch Medora had not revealed that the talks failed just weeks prior to the first attacks on Aria T'Loak and her administration, due to the issue being highly divisive among the governments. Those involved in the talks were nearly split down the middle in terms of support versus opposition. But it is _vastly_ coincidental that they were engaging in hypothetical discourse which essentially became reality _immediately_ after their plans were abandoned. Medora fears that someone is acting independently. She doesn't know about the Hierarchy, but High Command has not yet even removed every agent from Omega. Aria T'Loak discovered a handful, but there are others. Some have been there for hundreds of years, their records destroyed utterly to conceal every trace. But this has also increased the difficulty in monitoring and communicating with them. Others have vanished, gone rogue... High Command will not likely admit it, but their Omega agents are largely in disarray out of their own efforts to hide them."

The councilor inhaled slowly, lifting a hand to rest against her lips and chin. While Shiala patiently awaited her response, Tevos deeply pondered the situation. "So the two governments parted ways on the matter... leaving High Command to themselves, to begin their own operation, upon which they began to vote for its activation. It was a point of great contention amongst them. This was likely the reason why their original plans failed in the first place. Or did they have a disagreement with the Primarchs irreconcilable enough to destroy their alliance? Regardless..." She trailed off to think again. "Medora believes someone is acting now, in defiance of the rest. But if such was so, wouldn't they have tried to identify and rein in the dissident rather than allowing them to override their will? If that was the case I'd have expected them to _join_ myself and Aria in our investigative efforts."

"It's possible that the matriarchs involved in this want to centralize responsibility instead of diffusing it amongst them, so that High Command may claim official innocence and point fingers at rogue actions if all this came to light."

"Then why vote? To provide a cover, to appease those in opposition?"

Shiala blinked her thoughtful green eyes, finding herself unable to suppose anything further. "I... I'm afraid I have no more information. Matriarch Medora is completely invested in finding out more, however, as she is equally as puzzled. For all we know, High Command is completely innocent thus far and the Hierarchy is the one to be blamed. If that's the case, we lack the relations to inquire, even secretly. It becomes a matter of turian intelligence, no longer asari."

A finger tapped itself against the white line dividing Tevos's bottom lip. "I might be able to broach the topic with Estulius," she mused aloud. "He would have the means of finding out. Although, it would be no easy feat to convince him to seek out and share sensitive turian intelligence with me, especially given my repeated history of denying him access to certain asari secrets. I would have to bestow him some clearance, to show my intent and the necessity of his aid. I'm not sure I'm willing to do that, but if it means bringing us closer to visibility of this faction, I may have no other choice."

"I'm sure Matriarch Medora and her associates would understand, if it indeed meant attaining the knowledge she has been unable to secure."

"A problem yet stands, however," said Tevos. "I don't know if Estulius finds my position on the ordeal agreeable. He's expressed his disdain toward the idea of allocating any amount of resources to the preservation of Omegan leaders. He found it universally immoral and wasteful. He'd probably be disinclined to render aid, unless I made a particularly compelling case..."

While the councilor grew pensive again, Shiala afforded her as much silence as her superior required. Tevos's thoughts were racing, cross-referencing every bit of evidence she could recall in a quest to assign an ounce of reason or sense to the situation. One central point, removed from the webs of possibility, gleamed luridly and outshone all other facets of her speculation: Omega had become a brilliant exotic jewel, prized and coveted by many for its troves of new wealth, for its strategic cosmic locus, and for the seductive notion of being the one to depose its legendary conqueror. All parties mentioned to Tevos were guilty of desiring Omega, at the very least. While this conclusion didn't lead the councilor to any clear resolution, it did lead her to a mindset she hadn't adopted before. Perhaps they had been searching for their foe in slightly erroneous places, all along.

"Have you brought with you Medora's evidence of the meeting?" Tevos inquired to her agent.

"I did," answered Shiala. "I... Forgive me for not being able to transfer it to you. Matriarchs Medora and Benezia both went to great lengths and complicated processes to provide me an untraceable audio download. With the danger of my communications possibly being watched..."

"Yes," Tevos agreed. "It would be wiser not to risk it."

Resourcefully, Tevos circumvented the security issue by tasking a clerical VI to transcribe the audio and convert it to a text document. When ready, Shiala played the audio file within the safety of Tevos's study. There first came shuffling and a murmur of voices preceding the talks, during which Shiala stole a quick moment to inform Tevos that she would announce the name of every new speaker, once their voice joined the discussion. After roughly thirty seconds the murmur died down at the behest of a matriarch, and the two listened to the conference in its entirely. Its contents were precisely as Shiala had reported. The discourse of dozen or so matriarchs from High Command—whom Tevos privately and permanently struck from her good graces—reciprocated by approximately the same number of Primarchs and turian officers of high military rank. When they spoke, their proposals had chilled Tevos to the bone. Terms such as _removal_ inadequately impersonating the reality of _assassination_ , attempts to stipulate distributions of military presence and new ownership of massive Omega-based businesses... The only consolation Tevos found was in the words of disdain arising from those who disagreed with the bold stratagem.

Previous to that day, Tevos had grown extremely close to exonerating High Command and turning her gaze away from them. At present she was no longer certain that readmitting her government into her trust was a wise course of action. As Shiala had said, the fact that their talks had ceased immediately prior to the first attack upon Aria's administration was vastly coincidental and indicative of some sort of connection. As she watched lines of pacifying blue run by the VI's hologram interface, taking second-hand record of the audio file, fragments of both conjecture and fact swirled about the councilor's mind, floating and rotating and attempting to fit against other wayward components with compatible conformations. Before the audio file had played to its end, Tevos had in mind a rather vivid idea of what was truly occurring.

In some form or manner, an unknown percentage of local Council Space governance was consorting with, supplying, or even _comprising_ the new Omegan faction that opposed Aria. It was the solution to Council race concerns. While gaining influence or control over distant Terminus realms would bolster security and even the economy back home in Council territories, a direct invasion would never gain the support of the public. It would be too costly, too disruptive, too unpalatable a campaign. A transparent takeover would crumble before the first ship even left its bay. But a deposition and infiltration through _proxy_... That was an entirely different game altogether.

It would begin with Omega. With its leader deposed and replaced by a puppet, who then welcomed legions of foreign agents and hand-picked moguls of pervasive businesses onto the station, the _entire culture_ of Omega itself could be subverted in just a few industrious decades. It would become a military outpost, a reformed fortress carving deep fissures in Terminus Space alliances and trade. The effect would domino, creeping across those regions until they were tamed, then they would go onto squeezing shut around the Attican Traverse until the entire galaxy was made uniformly Citadelian. A crusade to end all other crusades.

Or, it could result in all-out war if Omega's robust, surly denizens decided to fight back once the designs underway became obvious.

This must have been the reason why the talks eventually failed, at least officially. There was too much risk involved. There was too much at stake, too much uncertainty. Apparently, that had not been enough to dissuade certain individuals from continuing on with or without consensus. But why? Were they acting on ill-conceived ideals or delusions that this was the right decision? But such couldn't be the case, not when Tevos recalled in mind the treatment of Aria and her officers. Mutilation, humiliation, public demonstration... These signs were not indicative of military or special force activity. These were acts of bitter personal vengeance.

This conclusion made Tevos grimly wonder if their modes of operation even mattered to whoever was supporting them, so long as they won the war.

Shiala's recording came to an end. The councilor's VI finished transcription, saved the file, and deactivated. Upon meeting her agent's eyes Tevos saw that Shiala was about to comment, but was denied the chance when Tevos's omni-tool chimed with a message from a contact categorized as high-priority. She opened the message, answering her reflex to do so without delay.

It was from Aria, she found to her mild surprise. She wasn't expecting her until much later into the night, and duly wondered what she required of her at present.

_Open your window_ , the message read.

Tevos's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. She might have panicked had she not spent years conditioning herself not to when confronted by a problematic situation, and instead calmly informed Shiala that she needed to make an important call, claiming it to be work-related and confidential. Shiala nodded in respectful understanding, minding the councilor's advisement to stay seated for just a few minutes while she stepped out into her front room to hold her call. Once Tevos had ensured that the door to her study had been securely closed, shutting out as much sound as possible, she started down the hallway at a hasty, brisk pace while sending a call to Aria. As soon as she picked up on the other end, Tevos almost hissed to her, "I thought we agreed on midnight. You're not supposed to be here yet."

_"I need to talk to you,"_ Aria replied, her voice a whisper. _"You have about thirty seconds before one of your guards comes back around this way."_

By the time Tevos reached her kitchen a shallow frown had disfigured her lips. Sure enough, outlined by her window frame perched a familiar shadow on the outer ledge, impatiently awaiting admittance. After venturing further into the blue darkness, Tevos pressed her fingers to the latch, unlocked it by identification of her touch, and opened the window. Aria climbed through with practiced ease with her helmet tucked beneath one arm, C-Sec-issue boots clapping down onto the cold tiled floor a bit too loudly for Tevos's preference. And the very moment the window had been closed and locked again, Aria set down her helmet on the counter top and began speaking at a casual, unmitigated volume.

Tevos hushed her before her first sentence could take comprehensible form and partially placed her hand over her mouth for lack of a better method for ensuring her silence in so short a time. Aria's brow drew downward in consternation and she pushed the hand away from her face, taking offense at the gesture while keeping her fingers wrapped around the councilor's wrist so she couldn't utilize it again.

"Be quiet," Tevos stiffly berated her. "You're not supposed to be here yet!" She stole a glance over one shoulder, praying that Shiala had not heard anything that would give her cause to investigate the source of the disturbance. Tevos hadn't a care about Aria's reason for arriving so unexpectedly early. The only thing occupying her mind at present was a considerably more pressing issue. If in the event Aria and Shiala encountered one another, the secrecy that lent Shiala's unit its effectiveness would be voided, and Tevos's best agents on Omega would be rendered obsolete for their circumstances. Such a scenario was unacceptable. She would strive to protect her furtive unit at all costs, if only for Aria's sake, even if she would _never_ know what force had essentially kept her alive at one point. "No, no, no," Tevos hollowly uttered, lightly twisting her arm free of Aria's grip and lifting both hands to hover near her armored shoulders, preparing to grasp her and direct her back toward the window. By now, the C-Sec guard Aria mentioned should have came and gone. "You can't stay here right now, Aria." Her voice was leaden with urgency.

"And why not?" Aria demanded, standing firm against the attempt to push her back through the kitchen window again, and potentially into the well-manicured line of shrubbery a floor below. Tevos didn't seem to mind _where_ Aria might end up, so long as it was outside her apartment. "I told you; I need to talk to you _now_. This can't wait any longer. I've learned things that would even make your High Command cohorts pale—"

"This is a _horrible_ time for you to be here," Tevos vaguely explained after cutting her off. "I... I have a correspondent on hold, one whose information is vital to our interests..."

"Then keep talking to them!" Aria said, her voice rising again and instilling great anxiety within Tevos. "If it's vital to our interests then _include_ me, Councilor. Put them on speaker." She seized Tevos's hands again, removing their insistent pressure from her body, but Tevos only tried retrieving them once more, determinedly resisting her grip. Their clashing interests resulted in a brief struggle.

"Let go of me!"

"No! Not until you stop trying to throw me out the window and tell me what the _fuck_ you're really hiding from me—!"

"If you _ever_ curse at me like that again, I swear, Aria—"

Suddenly, while causing Tevos great confusion, Aria released her wrists. The moment she had, Aria's right hand darted downward to her belt where she wrapped her fingers around a holstered firearm and drew it in one smooth motion. For a short instant Tevos considered the abhorrent idea that Aria intended to pull the weapon on _her_ , but when the firearm was aimed past her and not _at_ her, Tevos's concerns mutated into a different breed of alarm. She whirled around at once, peering through the darkness to find none other than Shiala standing at the edge of the hallway, with her pistol austerely leveled at Aria after biotically retrieving it from the countertop. Her expression was focused and immutable, like stone.

Initially all parties stood in frozen silence, assessing the hauntingly familiar situation. The silence didn't last long.

"Step away from her, T'Loak," said Shiala, her voice dire and commanding. Even past the dearth of light and the C-Sec armor which replaced her more salient attire, Aria's features were unmistakable. Though recognition was not reciprocated, to Shiala's understanding Aria was supposedly an ally of Tevos's. But after slipping into her home and seizing the councilor as she had—against her will—Aria's actions gave Shiala cause to ponder whether that same alliance was still intact. And if it was not...

"Stop!" Tevos extended an arm out in front of Aria, trying to simultaneously ease her into lowering her weapon while communicating to Shiala that Aria was indeed not their enemy. "Both of you! Put those guns down!"

"Who the _hell_ is she!?" Aria demanded as a thin veneer of biotics began to ghost along her C-Sec shell. "And why is she here!?" She cast an intense expression at the councilor, her eyes painfully inquisitive and bright. As of that moment, neither she or Shiala had yet lowered their firearms.

Tevos only stepped further in front of Aria, eclipsing her before orienting herself in Shiala's direction to address her. "Shiala," she began while coming to terms with her failure to extend the longevity of her special unit, "everything's all right. This... This is an arrangement Aria and I have made, for safe and secure communications." She paused to evaluate the face of her agent. It was staid, but comprehensive of her words. "I promise you there's no danger here. We only had a... minor conflict because I was attempting to keep Aria unaware of you."

"Be that as it may, Madam Councilor, no one should _ever_ touch you like that," Shiala said, sending scorn through a glare directed at Aria. "She has no right to threaten you. No right at all."

"She wasn't threatening me," Tevos assured her. She didn't lie. In ironic actuality, Aria had only been defending herself from being ejected from the building in an admittedly ungraceful manner. If anyone had occupied the part of aggressor, it was Tevos. " _Please_ , both of you, put those guns down."

While Tevos had successfully convinced Shiala to lower her weapon, Aria was not quite persuaded as of yet. Both kept their biotic barriers warily intact.

"You still haven't answered me," Aria bitterly said. "Who the hell is she and why is she here?"

She neglected to answer Aria's query. Alternatively, Tevos issued a final advisement to her agent. "Shiala, I mean no offense by this, but... I think it'd be best if you took your leave now."

Her objections to leaving the councilor alone with Aria were blatantly present in her expression. It was the identical reservation she had once exhibited years prior, on one Thessian day when Aria _was_ a major threat. But she obeyed her councilor. And so Shiala left, casting a final suspicious glance over her shoulder as she passed through the front door, which Aria had never before. Tevos sent word to her security, informing them of Shiala's departure and requesting that they arrange for her a protected escort.

She found Aria glowering at her when she finally faced her again. Tevos braced herself. Her dishonesty had met its end. She watched Aria slap her firearm onto the counter and fit her hands on her hips, broiling with disdain. Tevos began cautiously, "I know I owe you an explanation—"

"Damn right you do," Aria coldly agreed, taking an accusatory step toward her. "Who the hell was that? Another bedfellow I don't know about? Does she keep you warm until I come around? Or was it one of your spies and I interrupted a briefing where you pass on all the intel I give you, so she can run it back to High Command? Which is it, Tevos? Why does she know about our arrangement? Why have you been lying to me all this time after wasting your breath stressing the need for honesty? _What else_ are you hiding?" She simmered with rage. "People like you are all the same. This is the last time I'll make this mistake." Aria disengaged herself from Tevos, unwilling to continue exchanging a gaze with a potential traitor. It seemed to Tevos that Aria would prefer that she never look upon her again. It was an agonizing experience, despite the councilor's innocence. The instant yielded more pain than any other incident that had occurred between them in memory.

But Tevos was not unkind or unsympathetic enough to presume that Aria's trust in her had not developed into any sort of attachment or sense of sanctuary. Aria had been just as deeply hurt as Tevos was by her anger. If she had not cared, if she had not feared, Aria would not have appeared as fraught with burgeoning distress as she did now. The situation needed to be remedied before irreparable damage was inflicted.

"I kept Shiala and my other special agents secret for _your_ benefit," came Tevos's resolute response. She attempted to step back into Aria's line of sight, vying for a chance to explain herself. "And they are _not_ associated with High Command. I know I should've told you, Aria. I know that might have been wiser, or it might have kept our relations running more smoothly, but... I _couldn't_. If you became aware of them their flexibility and camouflage on Omega could have been compromised! You might have inadvertently accommodated them in a way that exposed them to your enemy, and they could've been hindered, eliminated, or even tortured for information as a result, just like my Spectre! And I will _not_ have that happen again. I will _not_ feed the ammunition stocks of my foes." She reached out for Aria, intending to take her arm and pull her back into facing her. Aria sharply tore herself away from her grasp, highly adverse to being touched. Even after being denied, Tevos pressed her by saying more. "Their unit was meant to substitute my Spectres! A unit comprised of individuals without prominent profiles, who could perform tasks and reconnaissance without the constant danger of being sought out and shadowed! They were meant to _protect_ you, Aria. And they _did_."

"Give me one good reason to believe you," Aria caustically sneered, her jaw held tightly as she spoke. "How do I know that all this time you haven't been feeding High Command everything I tell you? Everywhere I turn I lose more lieutenants and officers, my gunships are sabotaged, and my most sensitive operations are compromised! _Someone's_ leaking information to them! _Someone_ on my high-clearance channels, _someone_ with access to my movements, my plans, my resources, Councilor! Who's left, Tevos!? Who's left to fit that profile!?" Finally, Aria faced her again, but her expression offered no familiar concord.

Tevos fell silent for a moment, enduring the glower. There was nothing she could say to prove her claim. Not to shrewd, paranoid Aria, who yielded to nothing save for tangible evidence and fact. Fortunately, she possessed precisely what was required. Without delay Tevos activated her omni-tool and entered several passwords to access her encrypted files.

"Look, Aria," she told her. She held out the projected screen for Aria to see, displaying the correspondences Shiala had sent during and after locating Eruam Anikot. Aria peered at the messages with a glare still chiseled into her face. "The most important operation I tasked this unit with was finding your former lieutenant, Eruam Anikot. They spent days gathering information, breaking into bank databases and even Omega Control on one occasion, just to locate him for you. They were tireless. And they found him—look here, at the timestamp. Do you notice that it's almost identical to the time when your networks found him? Do you realize that we found him for you?"

"Let me see that," Aria said, adjusting Tevos's arm so that the text presented at an optimal angle for legibility. She spent ample time reading every character available to her, evaluating the legitimacy of the correspondences.

While she read, Tevos continued, "And do you remember when I called you? When I warned you about those two inbound gunships? I would not have been able to if that unit hadn't been monitoring the situation from afar. You might owe your life to them."

When Aria had finished, permitting Tevos to lower and deactivate her omni-tool, she stood motionless and made no sound save for a slow exhalation of air. She had grown pensive, a welcomed departure from her previous seething disposition. It was relief. It was the closest Aria would permit herself to indulge in relief, at the very least. Tevos hazarded an approach. She lifted her hands, cautiously laying them on her arms and remaining there until Aria met her gaze. It was at that time, due to their proximity, when Tevos was able to see through the darkness the minor wounds still marring Aria's face. Small cuts, a bruise on her cheek, evidence of a lip that had once profusely bled. While Tevos had been informed that Aria had escaped from her engagement with the enemy alive, she had never mentioned at what costs, or what degree of battle had been required to do so. Only now did Tevos see the answer to those questions.

"I thought we trusted each other," she quietly lamented. Seeing Aria so quickly accuse her of betrayal had been devastating. It was true, she had deserved at least a small portion of disparagement, but not to the extent Aria had delivered. Was their trust so diaphanous and vulnerable to adversity that it burned away at the slightest flicker of doubt? Did everything they had been through together truly amount to that little?

"I _did_ trust you," Aria stated. "That's why I'm angry."

"Aria." Tevos's voice drastically decreased in volume, but her severity held fast. "I live... in _constant_ suspicion that you've been dishonest with me. I know you have been in the past. It was unavoidable." Her words seemed to set something within Aria alight. Familiarity, immediate understanding. "But I... I have recently _forced_ myself to trust you now, against my instincts, for the sake of our alliance alone. We can't do this if we're constantly at each other's throats over every little issue that surfaces. It would be unsustainable. So I _need_ you to let this go. I need you to compare this to everything you've construed or hid from me, everything I've had no choice but to excuse you for. I _need_ to know that you still trust me enough to continue exchanging information. If you can't do that... there isn't a purpose for doing this anymore. We've come to a point where everything hinges on what we discover and decide _now_ , on just a few more nights after this one." She peered at her with great purpose, her mind bursting with secrets she yearned to spill for Aria's benefit. "You can't afford to lie to me about this."

Aria pondered her response, demonstrating the discipline necessary to maintain unwavering eye contact even as she made what was possibly one of the most important decisions of her life. It could govern her very survival. When she replied to Tevos at that intimate distance, she spoke deliberately, "I've invested a lot in you, Councilor. More than I hope you ever come to realize." And she paused long enough to privately expound before concluding, softly and perhaps a bit reluctantly in the face of truth, "I never wanted to trust you. I don't trust, rely, or depend on _anyone_. But if that's what it takes, I'm capable of anything."

Tevos found herself able to breathe again, and able to release Aria. Rueful, grateful affection billowed in her chest. Aria had grown frigid after her admission, withdrawing into herself in compensation for revealing something so very compromising of her position, but she was not unresponsive when Tevos bade her to follow when she started in the direction of the hallway. Leaving her helmet and firearm behind, Aria pursued her on silent steps until they passed into her bedroom. A weak light was switched on for their convenience, under which Aria began removing the armor sections cloistering her body. For a time they exchanged no more words, made rigidly uncomfortable by their altercation. Tevos stepped out for a few minutes to tend to her own appearance in preparation for yet another engagement before the night's end, and when she returned at last—completely suitable for appearing before the most refined company—she brought with her the white shirt Aria traditionally preferred, freshly removed from a clothes dryer; its intended journey from that appliance to the councilor's drawer, and to Aria's hands, expedited by delivering it directly to its recipient.

Its material was still warm when Aria pulled it on, warmer than her skin, and soothingly so. While sitting beside her at the edge of her bed, Tevos reached out to unfold the hem about her lower waist where it had curled back on itself, straightening the creases and allowing her hands to linger there even after appeasing her inclination for neatness. Her hands slid forward, fingers eroding their own new creases as they proceeded to wrap about Aria's waist, hoping that the well-intended touch would dissolve their unease and congeal contentment in its stead. In reciprocation she felt Aria fondling the material of her dress, wandering thoughtfully and inadvertently dispensing hints that alluded to her devotion to their coupling.

Too many people had turned on Aria. She would not have handled another, not gracefully. As Aria lightly touched her now, in her vague gestures Tevos could feel her monumental _need,_ her insatiable desire to retain the most powerful ally she had made. She was firm, faintly obsessive, as if her primary instinct was to never let Tevos out of her sight or reach again. A sense of inseparability was communicated to Tevos. They had sewn themselves together over the last several weeks, and their misunderstanding had broken seams that Aria immediately endeavored to restitch. Aria would _not_ be losing the councilor this far into the war, not to circumstance, not to betrayal, and not to negligence. Tevos felt as though her heart were filled with molten lead.

When Aria voiced a question, there was a remarkably noticeable amount of sentimentality in her tone, "Where are you going?"

"I have somewhere I need to be."

"Where?" Aria persisted.

"I'm going to dinner with Falteus, if you must know the specifics."

Aria withdrew from her enough for their eyes to meet. "Not while I have a thousand things to discuss with you. We need to talk _now_."

"Aria, I can't just cancel on him. I'm not an unreliable person and I'm not about to falsely advertise myself as one. I've a thousand things to tell you as well, but I think it can wait a few hours until the time we originally agreed upon."

"I don't think you understand." She sounded adamant.

Tevos sighed with some weariness. She was due to leave soon, within just fifteen minutes lest she arrive late. Her solution was a compromise. Tevos reached for Aria's hand, wrapping her fingers around her wrist as she felt Aria doing the same, understanding her intent without needing any words, although Tevos voiced it anyway. "Then meld with me."

Aria agreed. As they had on multiple past occasions they settled into one another, wading through murky remnants of recent emotional distress to establish a purely informative connection. Under ordinary conditions Tevos might have lingered a while in those tiers near the surface where their frayed nerves quivered and squirmed apprehensively, hoping to help Aria mend them somewhat, but she moved on. Pressed for time, the instant they had created the mental platform for their exchange, their incorporeal forum was flooded by collisions of concepts and thoughts translated into language on the fly.

_"High Command and the Turian Hierarchy—"_

_"Your Spectre, Neora, at the helm of the ambush—"_

_"—just days prior to the assassination of Olat Dar'nerah—"_

_"—augmented by geth or geth-like technology—"_

_"—intended to result in the complete assimilation of Terminus powers—"_

_"—another pair of gloves and a patient in a hospital ward being deliberately hidden from me—"_

Overwhelmed by the cacophony and its contents, they ripped away from another mentally and physically. Aria remained seated but Tevos leapt to her feet as the new information solidified and integrated with memory. Resent erupted on Aria's features in reaction to the plot against her beloved station, failed or not. Meanwhile Tevos had lifted her hands to her temples, shocked and horrified at the images of her Spectre striding toward her while framed by terrible screens of smoke and flame, flickering by her mind's eye in nightmarish flashes. But more than anything else, she had been most disturbed by the word _geth_ and all its dreadful implications.

"Oh my _Goddess_ , Aria," she breathed, beside herself with fearful awe. _"Geth?_ Are you sure?"

Aria gave a grim nod, folding her hands in her lap and interlacing her fingers. "I have a few engineers who knew what to look for. Either it's geth, or someone's replicated their technology with nothing less than ninety-nine percent accuracy of the real thing."

"Oh Goddess," Tevos quietly repeated, her hands falling from her face, but one remained resting over her mouth for a time. "If there are geth that have traveled beyond the Perseus Veil... Then this truly has become a matter of galactic security. I'm sorry, Aria, but I can't keep this intelligence away from the rest of the Council. They need to know at least that much, that there are geth currently in the broader Terminus Systems. If they're there on their own volition, in several decades they could spread into the Attican Traverse, then Council space... I just can't keep this from them."

"Hold on," Aria stopped her when she saw the glow of Tevos's omni-tool. "We don't know for a fact that any of the geth on Omega are actually intact platforms. The Spectre was still half organic. For all we know, only _parts_ have made it into the heart of the Terminus Systems."

"Yes, but they're active. From what we learned from the quarians during the Geth War, geth central processors grow _exponentially_ more sophisticated when they're in close proximity. A mere animal can achieve phenomenal intelligence just by being in a group comprised of five or so individuals. To control Neora there _must_ have been some sort of processor implanted in her, and if there's more than one of her kind on Omega... I shudder to think of what that could bode. I need to inform them, regardless of the finer details of the situation."

"Wait until we've talked at length," Aria urged when the omni-tool reappeared on her arm.

Puzzled, Tevos stilled her hand. "How could I do that? News of this magnitude—"

"Because I wouldn't trust your fellow councilors right now," she replied, her words thrusting Tevos into nonplussed silence.

Tevos stared at her, unsettled and concerned. Eyeing her warily, and even with a bit of insult fringing her voice, she inquired, "And what exactly are you implying?"

Aria lifted her chin, communicating that she was about to say something that the councilor profoundly did not want to hear. "I have cause to keep an eye on them."

"So... you're implying that the _Council_ has something to do with this?" Tevos didn't know whether to feel unjustly accused or amused.

"Not the Council. A _councilor."_

Again Tevos hesitated to respond. The notion was so exceedingly absurd, but at the same time so very disturbing, that a short, nervous breath of laughter escaped her lips. "That is entirely _ridiculous_ , Aria. The other members of the Council don't even know what's been transpiring on Omega aside from your strange war. They've been hounding me for information, which I've consistently denied them, but they've given me no indication whatsoever that they're even remotely aware of the nature of your enemy, let alone possible motivations. They're actively requesting inclusion since they _lack_ it, aside from basic peripheral information. I'm sure their own home governments are monitoring the more visible affairs but they've never been able to get close enough to determine anything substantial..." She was beginning to ramble. She caught herself doing so, quickly shutting her mouth when she had before growing pensive. Aria was watching her closely, mirthlessly.

"This was why I needed to talk to you," she said.

Tevos straddled the barrier between fear and offense taken at what must have been another one of Aria's outrageous and wild suspicions. Indignity weakly flailed in her heart at the notion of the Council—on which she had proudly served for decades—being in any way responsible for Aria's troubles. It was ludicrous. Tevos almost wanted to denounce Aria's assertion right then and there even without counter evidence, and thus on sheer hubris alone. But she willed herself to remain inexpressive, staring at Aria blankly, until looking to her wrist to check the time. Tevos decided it an opportune moment to leave.

It might have been irresponsible of her to flee the unsavory possibilities brimming over the edges of Aria's conscience, but Tevos rationalized her actions by prizing her own loyalty to schedules and order; a source of reassuring stability that provided her life with some degree of overlying sense. And so she drifted away from Aria and toward her tentatively-named date with Falteus, only approaching her current house guest to inform her that she would return in approximately two hours, or three at the very most. In the meantime Aria was to make herself at home (within reason, she added). Tevos then leaned in to address the leering crime lord once more, hesitating a moment, and pressed her lips against her cheek briefly, like a pacifying apology, and as if she were unable to devise any superior parting words. She preferred the tacit finality of the gesture, obligating its recipient to silence.

Without looking back Tevos departed, escaping Aria's company and the reach of her information.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Tevos was restless by the time she and Falteus were seated. Stating that she had been glad to see him, and that she had been looking forward to this arrangement, had been a disingenuous distortion of truth. And stating that she possessed a normal appetite this time was an even greater lie.

In bleak actuality, Tevos felt so out of sorts that she doubted she would be able to eat regularly for days, and certainly not in the company of anyone who reminded her of her worries and troubles. When she listlessly scoured the menu for something to order, everything seemed grotesque to her palate. She could not even enjoy the fine ambiance of the restaurant, finding the lights much too bright and some of the more vivid hues radiating from the plant arrangements intrusive and garish. For the vast majority of her time spent sitting across from her date, Tevos's mind overflowed with the anticipation of returning to Aria to hear her dreadful speculations later in the night.

Noticing her reticence, Falteus endeavored to make conversation after discreetly pausing to adjust the collar of his formal attire. As usual he appeared effortlessly handsome and dignified, exuding confidence and intelligence. Irissa had been correct. He _was_ a nice catch, as she so diligently phrased. It was only a pity that Tevos didn't much care—never maliciously, but in simple, unfortunate honesty.

"I recently spoke with Nerava again," he said. "She and her spouse are due to leave the Citadel soon, so we took an afternoon to peruse the local diversions."

"How are they?" Tevos inquired, feigning interest before sipping from her water glass. Unbeknownst to Falteus, she was busy rifling through her recollections of past deliberations with the Council, analyzing what had been said over the last month or so regarding Omega, and which opinions had belonged to whom. It was a vain, fruitless effort. Their conversational contributions were not necessarily indicative of their true feelings about the issue. Each time, without fail, Tevos had ultimately remained in control of the Omega situation solely due to the fact that their treaties were primarily asari ones, and therefore involved asari intelligence. The rest of Council could only justify an appeal for greater involvement if the troubles started affecting their races, or more centrally, the Citadel. And since the drug issue was not one that originated on Omega, but from batarian territories, their appeal had no reliable foundation. It did not matter, what had been said whenever they convened. From their powerless positions they could have said anything in the universe and it would not have altered nor diminished Tevos's plans, or jointly, Omega's fate.

"They're well," Falteus answered the question Tevos couldn't remember asking in the first place. "Very well, as a matter of fact. She told me of your family's new relation with Armax, and I can understand how you might feel some apprehension, but it seems as though they're quite pleased with their decision..."

He went on, and Tevos mechanically nodded on measured occasion despite her mind continuing to wander elsewhere. She began to think of Aria, and what a shame it had been to welcome her into her home earlier that evening with hostility. After a day spent overwhelmed by concern for Aria's well-being Tevos had craved her company, a tangible reassurance that Aria had survived the grim report Shiala had sent the councilor minutes before the ambush. It felt miraculous that Tevos had been able to warn Aria at all in so small a time frame.

She had wanted to receive her with the same affection exchanged the last time they were together, testing those waters that had grown richer and darker with red wines and paradoxically clearer; wanting to know how they would treat another now that Aria knew what Tevos thought of her, and now that Tevos knew that Aria wished to share with her leisures and frivolities she could only reserve for those of whom she was fondest.

But the situation had been set. Tevos would return home, find Aria awaiting her, and they would launch straight into strategical discourse. Possibly evading one another, still shaken by what could have been if Tevos had actually betrayed her. She didn't blame Aria. It was a daunting notion—frightful and abject. But they would settle everything. They always did. Even in the most unfavorable circumstances, and even despite themselves, they had always found a way to obtain whatever their collusion desired.

Tevos abhorred what Aria had insinuated about the Council, but if she was remotely correct, Tevos knew that she would not hesitate to lead a charge against them and defend both Aria and Omega from the avaricious hand of colonialism. And her stance wasn't solely founded on her attachment to Aria. The idea of tampering with and provoking the Terminus Systems was _awful_ policy as far as she and the majority of Council space were concerned.

Tevos quietly took the time to say aloud, "Oh, really?" in response to something Falteus said, and something she hadn't comprehended in the slightest.

A message arrived at her omni-tool, and she was almost grateful for a momentary distraction, even if it regarded dull legal work. But it was from Aria, heavily encrypted with an orderly body, whose apparent importance seemed to magnetically draw her attention against her wishes. Quietly she informed Falteus that she had received an important message from the Embassies, and excused herself from her minimal role in their conversation to unlock and read it.

.

TO: CLR. TEVOS N'VANI  
FROM: ARIA T'LOAK  
SUBJECT: MORE INFORMATION  
ATTACHMENT: 01-SN

My people have been hard at work on your Spectre. Just a half hour ago they managed to crack the security on her hardsuit's computer. It wasn't remotely what we usually see from the Citadel, which is probably why our enemy wasn't able to completely wipe everything before sending her out again. They must have been betting that we wouldn't be able to crack it either. Here is the intelligence they discovered. You would do well to read this at your earliest convenience.

1\. The last district Neora was active in was Gozu. Lower Gozu. Her most recent files are about Kiava Vathesa, where she explicitly confirms that Vathesa is a sleeper agent from Asari High Command. She provides authorization codes, documents, and even a seven-second audio recording as her body of evidence. This makes me believe that Vathesa _deliberately_ revealed this to her to implant a false sense of security in the Spectre. She might've presumed that since they were from the same extended government, they were allies.

2\. The hardsuit has record of her vitals moments before her death. Elevated and irregular heart rate, low blood oxygen levels, and high internal temperature. Because death occurred very close to the timestamp on Neora's items of evidence, I think it's likely that Vathesa poisoned her. I think that's why Vathesa shut herself down before I got my hands on them, since Spectre Neora was a key component of their operations.

3\. Check the attachment. High-res photos of the gloves we recovered from the eezo refinement plant. Ask your military man about them. They have a few hallmark design features that correlate with something he might recognize.

.

She took the advice and opened the attachment, displaying a pair of black gloves with similar green nodules as the ones they saw previously, albeit less pronounced and nearly flush with the material they protruded from. It was obviously a more recent model or prototype.

Tevos's eyes slowly lifted to retake Falteus within her gaze, who was content to browse the menu some more while awaiting the councilor's return to their conversation.

_Do you know something?_ she intensely wondered in silence. What had Aria recognized? What did Aria expect Falteus to say if confronted by the gloves, and more importantly, was his reaction destined to be one of guilt?

"Excuse me, Falteus," she said, drawing his eyes upward.

"Yes, Councilor? Are you well? You appear somewhat..." He trailed off to properly assign a word for the purpose emanating from Tevos's stare, "...on edge."

"I would... like to show you something," said Tevos, leaning forward a tad and reorienting her omni-tool screen in his direction, displaying the photo Aria had sent her. "Would you happen to recognize this?"

He peered at the photo for a few seconds, brow plates drawing lower in focus. They rose again before long, expressing confounded surprise. "Why, that's... that's an experimental Armax prototype!" Falteus spoke intensely, but quietly to preserve their privacy. "Kylris shows me them on occasion, asking for my opinion. It is, I confess, generally against protocol since they're developmental secrets, but he carries a lot of clout in the company and we keep it all confidential... But these are unreleased. These aren't public. I... I have to ask, Councilor, wherever did you get this? From Kylris? Was it leaked?"

Tevos rapidly calculated. If Falteus were involved, he would have denied recognizing the gloves. He would have guarded that knowledge until the bitter end, for staid self-preservation. But he didn't. He hadn't anything to hide. No, Falteus was not the villain here, absolved by his earnest reaction alone.

"Nerava," she lied on compulsion. "She was... attempting to allay my concerns regarding their investment, by presenting to me an impressive development. I wanted to confirm with you that it was truly Armax, not from distrusting her, but from hoping that she hadn't been sent anything false from the board, who of course, might not be entirely welcoming toward someone whose family ties have caused their stock prices to fluctuate over the last month or two. I realize this must be in breach of a number of non-disclosure agreements, but please, Falteus, I would request that you do not inform Estulius that Nerava possessed this image or sent it to me. I can assure you that no harm will come of it. It hasn't been passed on to anyone else, and if Estulius finds out it may injure the new relationship between our families."

"I understand, Councilor Tevos. I would not do that to you, and I have utmost confidence in your discretion."

Their date commenced without a semblance of relaxation. Tevos ate very sparingly and continued to talk little as her mind turned and turned, spinning into near-nausea as conclusions began to congeal.

They ended early, escaping the uneasy climate they had engendered between them, leaving Tevos to hurry home and Falteus to wonder what went wrong.

During the skycar ride, Tevos sat in the dimness of the back row of seats, mood darkening with every passing minute and mutating into what she could only describe as vengeful contempt.

He had beguiled them all. He had so elegantly slipped into the Council's fold, assumed his power, and proceeded to abuse it. He had prepared for the day when Tevos would find out, and he had skillfully safeguarded against it. He had done so with charming smiles, reeling her own family into his scheme so their money could help enable it, so Tevos would be affiliated with it; tied to his warfaring vessel so she would be forever and inescapably connected to the conspiracy whether it succeeded or sunk.

Her family had been weaponized against her. Her Council had been tainted by subterfuge. Her people's livelihood had been threatened by the shadow of war with the Terminus Systems, once they reached that point of singularity when Omega had been overrun by foreign spies and military, when the coup was inevitably publicized by its own scale and inspired Terminus powers to violently defend themselves at all costs. And he had _hurt Aria_ , aspired to kill her, and lied directly to Tevos's face all while doing it.

As Tevos approached her home, her rage bloomed like a poisonous flower, cold and lethal.


	30. Cold Blood

When Tevos unlocked and stepped through her front door at last, she waved a curt gesture in the air with one hand to flick the front room lights on, illuminating her path. The door shut and clicked behind her and she strode forward just five muffled steps, evening heels on white, obsessively-clean carpeting, before parting her lips to abruptly call, _"Aria—!"_

Her voice carried down the hallway, and its recipient had heard her, certainly. But she hadn't expected an answer, and wasn't particularly displeased when she didn't receive one. Tevos had only sought an expedient channel for the urgency coursing her veins, so the dangerous pinch in her shoulders would not draw even tighter than it was currently held, already unbearably taut, as if she were made of solid porcelain and would likewise violently shatter into innumerable pieces at the smallest additional tension or disturbance. With haste she made her way to her bedroom to find Aria seated in her armchair occupying one bedside corner of the room with a leg folded over the other. The orange light of her omni-tool burned in the darkness like candlelight along with a pair of datapads she frequently referenced, and Aria's busy focus seemed to prevent or excuse her from acknowledging the councilor's patent distress.

Tevos stood in the open doorway a while, folding her arms contemptuously over her chest. And then she asked Aria flatly, and in a voice so divested of emotional weight it made her sound acutely furious, "How long have you known about Estulius?"

Aria flicked a fingertip along the screen of the datapad to scroll its contents. "Just a few hours before I came here."

"And why wasn't I informed before I left?"

"Because I made the accurate prediction that Falteus Drusarius would prove useful in confirming my suspicion," Aria said simply. She neglected to afford Tevos her gaze. Instead her eyes continued to pour over the information glowing from her devices like a fiery, overflowing fountain. "I was also right to let you know while you were on your date, Falteus aside." She glanced at her omni-tool's clock. "An hour and twenty minutes. Nowhere near two hours. We'll have plenty of time."

She felt herself bristling. The _nerve_ Aria had, to disrupt and commandeer her entire evening with something she knew to be undeniably more important, and used that as an excuse to brusquely steal Tevos away from not one, but _both_ of her contacts. Aria was never content to have anything less than Tevos all to herself, even if that meant ruining what little pleasantry might have been shared with someone else. Hollowly, Tevos said to her, "Do you have any idea what this means? For me? For the Council?"

"Sounds to me like it's that time again to start tearing establishments down." Aria finally put her datapads to sleep and met Tevos's eyes. She appeared as though she would have regarded her less coldly, if her mind were not still immersed in the cruel calculus of criminal administration. Tevos's devotion to the Citadel Council was an integral component of her very identity, and although Aria might have generally held that political body in disdain, she would not have delighted in Tevos's pain. She hadn't given her verdict of the situation out of malice. It was only brutal fact, indifferent to their preferences, and neither falsely dressed nor adorned for Tevos's comfort.

Tevos regarded her with unyielding perception, standing there stiffly in her doorway, motionless. Her head teemed and reeled, contradicting the steadiness of her body. She was only moved when Aria stated that it was time for business, when she rose from the armchair to walk forward, brushed past the councilor with a fleeting stare, and moved on to her study. Tevos followed Aria's lead, resenting and relying upon it in her current shaken daze.

The councilor came into her study as the blue glow of her wall-mounted hologram monitor lit the room. She helped Aria adjust its settings until the thin projection frame covered the wall it occupied, expanding wide to accommodate the amount of information they needed to display tonight. The time had come to compile their sum total of data in one collection, in one sprawling web. The time had come to set the board, now that the pieces were in play.

The time had come to play the game in earnest.

Without needing any prompting from each other, the two began dragging files from their omni-tools to the blank blue slate of light, populating the wall with profiles and incident reports until it gleamed like a transparent, chaotic quilt.

Aria firmly and decisively applied her finger to the image of Councilor Kylris Estulius. His picture and name were suddenly framed in red, indicating his status as an enemy. For a few seconds she looked upon him with disgust, a period during which Tevos furtively examined her.

Aria had grown reserved and guarded since Tevos left. She had consistently avoided meeting her eyes unless absolutely necessary, and now held her jaw so sternly that Tevos could see the shallow indent it created in her temple.

She remembered Aria from earlier that evening. How she had retaliated to Tevos's deception. How fearful she had been. Tevos had seen the fear boiling up from her anger like a thin scum, where hotness of temper nearly always masked insecurity, much unlike the terrifyingly subtle and quiet wrath a confident Aria exhibited. The notion that Tevos had betrayed her had knocked Aria's complacent independence out from beneath her feet, and the sudden realization that Aria depended on Tevos far more deeply than she would have intentionally allowed came crashing down upon both their heads in a reflexive flurry of accusation, and in the aftermath, a severe possessiveness. Aria had clutched at Tevos in those following minutes, perhaps even desperately, or out of an obsession with reaffirming their alliance.

And now she was distancing herself. Compensating for her prior behavior, trying to pridefully reassert her self-sufficiency, to Tevos, and to herself. Tevos had never once thought Aria as fragile in _any_ aspect, but now... she wasn't entirely sure.

Privately, Tevos yearned to reassure her. She wanted to tell her that relying upon another wasn't weakness, that oftentimes the combination of two people resulted in products far grander than what the individuals could ever achieve on their own, that strong attachments were less of liabilities and more so motivators and sources of inspiration, and that she would _personally_ see to it that Estulius would never enable harm to come to her again. She wanted to tell Aria that strong attachment, at least on her end, had somewhere evolved into _fierce_ attachment, and at this point it was quite impossible for any of it to revert back to its original state.

"The turian councilor is the unofficial owner of Armax Arsenal," Aria said, unrevealing of whether she was aware of the musing that accompanied Tevos's scrutiny, "by having obtained almost forty percent of the company's market value over several generations of inheritance and acquisition. The gloves we found are undoubtedly a product of Armax, and an unreleased experimental prototype at that. Initially I suspected that the gloves were purposely planted there as another decoy to lead us astray, but given that there is no conventional way in which the enemy might have been outfitted in off-market Armax product without company involvement, we _know_ that Armax Arsenal is involved. Our present question is whether Kylris Estulius is orchestrating, aware, or ignorant of this. He's our starting point. From here, we have to conclusively determine whether he has proper motive and means. We have to prove to ourselves that he truly is involved."

"There's a potential motive that I know of," Tevos supplied, taking a step toward the image of her fellow councilor and peering up at his face. "You're not likely aware of this, but in past he revealed to me the nature of his military service. Estulius was involved in a special operation that skirted the Attican-Terminus border. He recalled multiple skirmishes between them and pirates, where several of his revered officers and fellow operatives were maimed or perished. He also has a tendency to vocally scorn Terminus factions. As for his means of supplying your adversaries... Estulius would have to be sending shipments out to an entity capable of discreetly receiving them. Someone who wouldn't draw attention, or someone who regularly receives so many armor shipments on a regular basis that it's made these particular shipments almost invisible to your networks. Are there any prominent syndicates or gangs remaining on Omega? Ones with considerable numbers and firepower, or ones highly active in commerce?"

"Gangs, no," Aria replied. "Not besides the Eclipse and the Blood Pack. While the Eclipse aren't horribly fond of me, we're currently under treaty. Jona Sederis distributed her forces into independent cells. They're quick to adapt and move out because of their small divisions, but they've collectively made too many enemies and too few friends to garner the support of key players like Kiava Vathesa, who sympathized with government and opposed local factions. And with the Blood Pack, most of their captains are so stupid that I'm often surprised they run a profit at all. As for the more business-inclined syndicates like mine, however... there's only Drialus Lorhan and Sahra Parem Igrahal." Aria lifted an arm to indicate the top of their chart, where herself, Drialus Lorhan, and Sahra Igrahal were assembled in a row. "We are the three wealthiest individuals in Sahrabarik. Parem Igrahal is the owner of various enterprises in the batarian-dominated Mazat District, colloquially named Little Khar'shan, and she controls a sizable mercenary army that generally acts as security for these ventures. She's been a lifelong supporter of mine, but lately she's given me cause to look closely into her activities. First, as you recall, she was on the list of people who regularly purchased vanhis biotoxin from Kiava Vathesa. That alone wasn't enough to implicate her of any foul play, but when I sent in a team to investigate her affairs, one of my agents reported that Igrahal deliberately concealed one of her hospital patients from them. And in that wing, the vanhis toxin was being prescribed to patients in minute doses as an analgesic. The fact that she's been hiding a patient in _that_ specific ward has made me appropriately distrustful of her. I've granted that specific team permission to continue investigating Parem Igrahal without requiring my explicit orders."

Aria framed Sahra Parem Igrahal's file in violet, the hue thenceforth indicating an unknown allegiance. She then drew a line to the file belonging to a batarian called Bothan Korgess, and made the profile decisively red. "This man, Bothan Korgess, was one of my bartenders. After the incident with Spectre Neora Sarthis—" Aria highlighted her file in red, unmindful of Tevos's preference to not mark her a true enemy, "—I returned to Afterlife to find that Korgess had attempted murdering one of my dancers. She managed to kill him and escape with her own life intact, providing me with the opportunity to question her about the event and determine Bothan Korgess's guilt. I ordered a review into his past and found that he once lived in Little Khar'shan, employed as a surgeon at Igrahal's hospital. Coincidentally... Bothan was the first one to handle Olat Dar'nerah's corpse after he scaled that statue in Afterlife. Because of the geth revelations so generously donated to us by your Spectre, my hypothesis is that Dar'nerah was reanimated by the same technology. Some sort of geth processor, likely implanted in his head and removed by the surgical expertise of Korgess before my people could retrieve the body. After we learned of his traitorous status, we raided his home and found a batarian revolver called a _druta_. It was the murder weapon in Olat Dar'nerah's case."

The councilor mulled over Aria's opening conjecture until a question struck her. "Why would Korgess expose himself by going after a dancer? Surely it would've been vastly more productive on his part to remain a spy instead of committing some... petty personal crime that would negate his usefulness." She turned to Aria then, honing in on the blankness of the glare forming on her features. "Aria," Tevos began, although she already knew the answer to her developing question, "which dancer did Korgess target?"

A shallow exhale departed Aria. Without sparing Tevos a glance, she replied remotely, "Anthya."

"...I see."

"That aside," Aria immediately corrected their digression, "would you say that Kylris Estulius isn't opposed to consorting with batarian syndicates?"

Tevos blinked. "Well after today I'm questioning whether I know much about him at all. But... based on his prior policy and actions in office, I wouldn't say that he'd enjoy closely working with them. He detests Khar'shan culture, but I don't know his opinion of expats or those otherwise in situations of diaspora." She folded her arms, crossing planes of dark, sleek fabric over her middle. "Although there might be _one_ indicator of his feelings toward the people. Do you remember that measure I signed? The one that would strictly limit and counteract batarian immigration to the Citadel? Estulius promptly signed it. Now, I know that one does not necessarily need to esteem the people one conducts business with, but given the fact that this measure made it even _harder_ for Omegan immigrants—primarily batarian—to find refuge on the Citadel in the wake of all the ongoing gang wars, I would dare to say that he must have offended much of the batarian people in general."

"Igrahal is an outspoken proponent of the batarian people, no matter where they reside in the galaxy," Aria added. "She may dislike the Citadel, but she dislikes it because slow bureaucracy gets in the way of her profit and growth, not because of any fundamental ideological difference. Several leaders of that civil rights group, Khar'shan Abroad, are actually from Omega; veterans of _her_ syndicate. If Estulius had any deal with Igrahal, he must have pissed her off that day."

"And furthermore," said Tevos, "Estulius is well aware of my political leanings. He would've known that there was an extremely high likelihood that I would not sign the measure, and if he wanted to stay in the good graces of this Sahra Igrahal, he would have been able to safely guess that the measure would not receive the requisite two-thirds consent which would have expediently placed it on the next ballot. I myself only signed because I felt I was given little choice. But there also exists the possibility that their potential arrangement is not of equal power dynamic, and Estulius may enact any policy he wants, provided that the syndicate in question relies greatly upon his shipments and thus is not in any position to effectively protest his actions."

"And _that's_ where it stops making sense. Sahra Igrahal would never rely on some turian-owned company to outfit her soldiers. And the racial makeup of the enemy operatives are hardly batarian, based on the ones we've seen. The only batarians that have been definitively associated with the enemy are Bothan Korgess and Eruam Anikot. And Eruam Anikot was originally employed by _me_ , and he had to be persuaded into turning traitor."

"Well... what of the other syndicate?" Tevos highlighted Drialus Lorhan, the turian businessman who always dressed in dour hues and proudly wore his few cybernetic prosthetics undisguised. "I recall that he owned the defunct element zero refinement plant you stormed. We discussed how likely it was that he was leasing it to the enemy as a temporary fortification."

"Lorhan's never liked me," Aria responded with a nod. "He's always seen me as his supreme competition in the markets, despite his relative ineptitude. He's a man of industry and not so much of war, preferring to concentrate any armed forces he employs in defense for his towers. This makes him difficult to approach, but nothing my spies can't handle. And they haven't been able to dig up much on him, which isn't entirely surprising. He probably knows that I've been watching. But that won't be a problem for too long—I've been carefully planning a raid that'll put him in my custody, and then we'll find out what he knows. It'll be messy, I won't pretend it won't be. I'm going to be leaning heavily on the dispensable Eclipse for this one."

Tevos spent a few moments silently examining Lorhan's file, holding one arm over her chest as the other lifted to place an index finger against her jawline, idly tapping in thought. She beheld the man; gazing up at his embittered mien, the subtle violet gleam in one eye that alluded to the original organ having been replaced by the superiority of futurism, the synthetic, sleek vigor spotted in the sheen of his new wrist and hand... And her heart seemed to stall for a fraction of a second. Abruptly, Tevos reached out to Aria, laying a hand on her upper arm to seize her attention. Aria faced her as quickly as she had been grasped, issuing her a highly inquisitive expression, but Tevos had not oriented her head to see it. She remained immutably fixated on Lorhan's image, eyes bright and active with cognizance.

The councilor lifted her arm on what felt like vicarious possession, indicating the file and selecting Lorhan's image to temporarily enhance and expand its dimensions. Lorhan obscured their web. "Aria," was all she said upon viewing the turian businessman.

"What is it?" Aria questioned her, wholly invested in what Tevos had apparently identified in him.

"That man's name isn't Drialus Lorhan."

Nearly suffocated by realization, Tevos slowly turned to meet Aria's eyes. Aria said nothing, intensely awaiting an elaboration.

"His name is Drialan Gallin."

"...What are you telling me?" Aria demanded after a pause for comprehension. "What do you know?"

"It... It just occurred to me now," answered Tevos. "That man... I've seen his face before. I _know_ what happened to him; the eye, the arm..." She drew a glaringly red line from Lorhan to Estulius, not minding that the line bisected two irrelevant files in the process. The application intelligently rerouted her line to avert the obstacles in rigidly-cornered detours. "He served alongside Estulius. He was part of his platoon, and years ago, he was maimed in a skirmish that took place near the Terminus Systems. By pirates. There was no way for you to have known—official documentation of Gallin's military career would have been classified by the turian government, to an extent where not even you would've been able to research it."

An oppressing silence descended upon them. The gravity of what they had uncovered was settling down onto their bodies, crushing and infuriating and exciting all at once. And then, in an instant, their discussion erupted when Tevos posed a pressing question.

"What did you find out about Visiom? Aria?"

"I talked to Rasma Visiom and she said Aetius had only ever told her that his father was a military veteran, like many turians, and that he'd shamed his family by coming to Omega—"

"Is it possible that the Hierarchy never officially disbanded that unit, or—"

"Where the hell does Asari High Command come into this, and why was Vathesa—"

"—maybe some personal vendetta—"

"—working with a rogue turian platoon; a bunch of delusional old birds—"

"But however did they manage to acquire _geth—!"_

They retreated their voices when they overlapped to the point of indecipherable disorder and wound back, back to the point where their speculations had first spiraled into free-fall. Aria suddenly lifted her arms and began briskly sorting through the confusion of files on the monitor, scattering them initially, but soon a categorized order returned to them once more. While she worked, Aria spoke.

"The incidents I've faced were not the hit-and-run strikes of angry rabble," she said. "They were the machinations of military minds. Sophisticated science and advanced weaponry, subterfuge and symbolic purpose." Three files were sorted in quick succession. "It's a vendetta. It's an extension of a military campaign, government-sanctioned or not. And no one but Estulius and his military veteran affiliates are so trained, in possession of political and corporate power, as well as a viable motive, to be at the helm of all this. But they couldn't have done it alone." When Aria had finished sorting, she left behind in the monitor three major groups rising high above all other persons of interest: Kylris Estulius and Drialus Lorhan, Asari High Command and Kiava Vathesa, and Sahra Igrahal and Bothan Korgess. She pointed to the group containing High Command, then her index finger migrated to Sahra Igrahal. "One of these two has access, or is connected to, the geth threat," said Aria. "One of them has been lying to us. Korgess and Vathesa had a hand in it, and they either report to one of these entities, or _both_ of them. That's our next order of business. We _have_ our fulcrum, we _have_ Estulius. We only need to find out who he's working with. And that's where you'll need to come in."

"Asari High Command," Tevos incisively, albeit grimly presumed.

Aria nodded. "You need to find out if Kiava Vathesa has been acting on their orders. We need to know where they stand."

"You... you do realize that if Kiava Vathesa was acting on their orders, the murder of a Council Spectre..."

"Is treason against the Council. I know."

"And venturing into the Perseus Veil to capture geth and ship them into the broader Terminus Systems..."

"Endangerment and treason against the entire galaxy, possibly."

The councilor looked away from Aria, suddenly overcome by a feeling of enervation that had her drifting away. She lowered herself into one of her armchairs with a distant aspect in her eyes, appearing delicate and acutely disturbed as she slowly laid her hands out along the rests. What was transpiring in the confines of her mind was obvious; while in the past Tevos had been dismayed and reluctant to believe that her government was facilitating a proxy war for Omega, the notion that they had extended themselves into the realm of treason and unpardonable war crime sickened her, made her nerves swirl horridly in a fearful fever. The monitor's blue aura gleamed in her irises like frigid spirits—anxious, quivering, emaciated light.

She scarcely noticed when Aria calmly strode over to the adjacent chair and took a seat, and when she did spare her new location acknowledgement, Tevos was unsure of whether she welcomed it at the moment. Here was Aria again, poised and ready to tell Tevos exactly what she wanted to hear, exactly what would make her feel reassured about their current course of action. Tevos admitted to herself that Aria indeed possessed what she _needed_ to hear, but the power begotten from such spontaneous perception never failed to impress and severely concern her.

When Aria spoke, she sounded gentle and unperturbed. "Answer one question for me, Tevos," she began. "Would you prefer to spare and perpetuate a corrupt Asari High Command if only to protect asari reputability, or would you rather destroy and rebuild them into something worthy of your respect?"

Her words plucked at the strings of her deepest conviction, asserting themselves harmoniously into logic, and eventually, into agreement. Aria was right. If High Command had crossed the point of no return, if their activities ran as foully and detestably as she and Aria surmised they did, they needed to be stopped, not shielded from publicity. Even if it meant burning down the very institutions that placed those matriarchs into positions of wartime and inter-species power to find the wicked roots of this conspiracy, Tevos would do so, and start anew. Start from purity, with a blank slate, untouched by deception and cabal. It was only tragic that those things were in direct opposition to the soul of her people, and however much Tevos praised veracity, like so many others before her she too had long been seduced by the vice of secrecy. For how would Aria be here, and how would she have known of the terrible things transpiring around them, if she had not been?

"I... I will attempt to discreetly contact Medora again," Tevos announced at last, speaking a bit weakly beneath a veneer of resolve. "She's presently our most reliable ally within High Command. She can be trusted. However, I will have to tell her of our suspicions about the geth. And I will have to give her Kiava Vathesa's name."

"If it leads us to answers, tell her whatever she needs to know."

Tevos nodded and began taking notes on her omni-tool. "How will you go about investigating Parem Igrahal? And Gallin?"

"I already have a team on Igrahal. Basic electronic espionage at this point, but if they find anything notable they're going to follow her for a few days and take detailed notes on her contacts and daily business. I'm sending in more people to that hospital, to see if they can dig up anything more on our mysterious patient. Meanwhile, I'll be rallying the Eclipse into the operation that'll get Lorhan in my hands."

"Would you tell me about that operation?"

Aria hesitated. She stalled; keeping her body utterly still for a mere three seconds before turning to Tevos and meeting her inquiring gaze. "It'll be one big ruse," she said at length. "Lorhan knows about the disgruntled attitude with which the Eclipse signed a treaty between them and my syndicate. But it protects them. From _me_. Jona Sederis might be an unstable, vicious varren of a woman but she's not stupid. She knew that the only way to keep the Eclipse alive and well on Omega was to not anger me, and what better way to do that than make a mutually-beneficial deal out of it? At the moment we're tentatively allied and the Eclipse are allowed to keep their territories and run their missions however they please, as long as they stay out of my way, and as long as I can call in a few _favors_ every now and then. They have little choice in the matter. They'll do as I say. Now, as I said before, Lorhan knows the Eclipse don't like the position I've put them in. He knows they feel cornered, used at times. And when the Eclipse come knocking on his door, asking for admission into a _supply route_ they've heard about on the street... He won't be able to refuse that kind of offer. Hundreds of trained mercenaries suddenly at his disposal, ready to be aimed back at the one who thought them under her control. He'll love it. It'll be his demise."

The pleasant nonchalance with which Aria explained her plans to Tevos unnerved her, but not as much as one contingency creeping up into her conscience. "Aria, is it possible that the Eclipse might use this opportunity to _actually_ ally with Lorhan? If they disdain being held under your contract with Sederis, wouldn't they covet nothing more than the chance to abandon it and join someone who's been able to consistently inflict damage upon your syndicate? Someone who might potentially free them? This could be dangerous, placing that opportunity right in their hands, so easily taken."

"Tevos..." Aria said a bit too softly to not be somewhat patronizing. "I've been playing this game for centuries, and I've never lost. The Eclipse don't worry me."

Tevos eyed her with substantial skepticism, unamused by her confidence.

"Don't worry about it, Councilor. You've plenty to concern yourself with on your side of things." Aria shifted in her chair, reaching for a pocket. From a small compartment near her belt she retrieved a black cigarette and placed it between her lips, but paused before proceeding to light it once she remembered her environment. Without engaging Tevos's highly disapproving leer she returned it to her pocket and reclined in what Tevos identified as utter discontent. In spite of all her pride and sureness, Aria was tense. When Tevos's gaze drifted to her hand, a minute trembling of tendons caught her keen notice. She wondered what was permeating Aria—anger, impatience, paranoia? Even a blend of them all was probable at this point, with Aria now facing the turian councilor, a massive armaments company, geth, the provisional asari government, and _two_ of the largest Omegan syndicates, if Sahra Parem Igrahal was also found to be her enemy. Her insistent assurance was paper-thin, constructed from courage in the face of sublime odds alone.

The volatile Omega was ready for its next season of war, for its next ruler to rise from the obsolescence of the last. But Aria had overstayed, and it seemed to Tevos that the entire galaxy was unconsciously attempting to correct itself, as if all the universe and physical law would catastrophically collapse if these separate hostile entities failed to collide perfectly and rectify the deviation Aria had torn in the very fabric of natural procession of power. So disruptive was Aria, Tevos thought. Irreversibly changing the lives of everyone she touched, oftentimes traumatically, other times inadvertently, but always inevitably. It was taking nothing less than a miraculous confederacy of threats to depose her, and with the progress she and Tevos were making, even that may not be enough to succeed.

"What's your relationship with Estulius?" Aria asked her. "Where do you stand?"

Tevos inhaled, held her breath a moment, and replied, "We're still cordial with one another. But I think he's identified me as a threat. Estulius has managed to convince my family to invest heavily in Armax, and with my name consequentially tied up in everything, if I should ever want to openly accuse him of illicit dealings with the Terminus Systems I face the risk of defaming my family due to association. I need to find a way to warn Nerava and the others. If I phrase it right, I might be able to convince them that Armax is involved with something detrimental to their reputation—"

"Don't," said Aria, eliciting some confusion from Tevos. "Let them stay with Armax. If they suddenly back out, Estulius might get the feeling that something's not right. He might suspect that we're onto him, and we can't afford to lose this advantage. We need to keep him in the dark. Play dumb and oblivious. And while you do that, you can spend your time probing more information, finding more about his friends and Armax. But if you're not willing to trespass or commit larceny when required, our options might be limited."

"If I absolutely _need_ to, I suppose anything's possible. I shall try to consult Falteus as well. I might have been a bit cold to him tonight, but I don't think I've lost his interest entirely. I think he'd still want to see me and answer my curiosities."

"Do that, but be careful," Aria cautioned her. "Even if Falteus doesn't seem to be involved, he could easily mention to Estulius that you've been poking around."

"I know," said Tevos. She grew remote for a time, reflecting on her position and her personal investment in the ordeal. When she finished, Tevos had no positive revelations for Aria. "I haven't felt so... deeply disturbed by another councilor in my life. I've disagreed with many other politicians in past, some of whom enacted policy in direct opposition to my own. Others yet maintained quiet feuds with me. Maneuvering in petitions, trying to obliquely insult one another or incite slip-ups or contradictions... At times it grew vicious." She glanced at Aria to assess whether she still had her attention. "But never before have I felt so thoroughly _wronged_. I think this is so because while my politics were at odds with my rivals', at the very least we were honest about it."

Aria maintained her silence, appearing interested in allowing the councilor's thoughts to continue their trail without intervention, if only to see where they led.

"I feel dreadful," Tevos confessed. "I didn't always agree with Estulius, and we had our quarrels, but I _trusted_ him. I trusted his honesty. And now I want nothing more than to see him suffer for it." She turned back to Aria, visibly concerned with her own statement and how bitterly it had ended. "I know it's my anger presiding here; this news has only just been revealed to me tonight. But I want this. I want to ensure that he never sees a political office again, or any office for that matter." Tevos paused again to collect herself, and she sighed almost inaudibly. "What will happen, Aria? How will we go about this, publicizing what he's done and taking legal action? How can we successfully indict him without exposing ourselves?"

Aria had lifted a hand to her jaw where an index finger idly extended along the bone. It was a pensive position, invested in the conversation. She removed the leg that was crossed over the other, bringing her foot back down to the floor without ever averting her eyes from Tevos's. "I'm not a lawyer, Councilor," she said. "You are."

Tevos nearly scoffed. "I'm _not_ , actually. I studied law and have several degrees in the field, but the very instant I stepped foot into a law firm I fled for politics."

"Official details aside, you have the qualifications. You alone. I'm not taking the turian councilor to court. That's not the Omega way. If he were anyone else I would want blood, _lots_ of it, but he's not mine to handle unless I want the turian government on my back. He's yours. You deal with him however you Citadel people like to handle things. But Tevos..."

"Yes?"

"You make him suffer for me. You make him _squirm_ and regret ever crossing me."

"Oh, I won't do that," Tevos said.

"Why not?"

"Because the message needs to be conveyed," she began to explain, tilting her chin with a humble measure of tense poise, "that he should not only regret crossing you... but _myself_ as well. And he will."

A smile grew on Aria's lips, evidencing wicked delight. "Then it looks like we're on the same page." There were few things such as cold-blooded retribution that warmed her heart so exquisitely.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

When they finished discussing their plans for confronting the multiple battlefronts encroaching upon them, Tevos answered Aria's passing announcement that she was hungry by giving her the lunch she had already prepared for the next day, doubting that she would have finished it anyway from her appetite being so indefinitely agitated by all that was ongoing, and as a result, believing that Aria would have appreciated it far more. Tevos had also approached her cabinets to pour a glass of the batarian gin her Khar'shan ambassador gifted her before he was removed from his embassy and reassigned, presumably never to cross paths with the asari councilor again. She gave the glass to Aria partly because the gin was a bit too strong for Tevos's preference—it had even drawn a crease in Aria's brow after the first taste—and partly in apology for denying Aria her cigarette.

There were few things Tevos loathed more than the scent and taste of smoke. Once, she had kissed Aria and tasted it then. She had tolerated it for a while, testing herself to reevaluate whether it was truly as unpleasant as she staunchly believed, and it was. Never again, Tevos had resolved, would she allow Aria to kiss her under such circumstances. It was fortunate that Aria hadn't made a compulsive habit of it, else it was likely that she would never touch her again for that grievance alone. And it was worth wondering where Aria had picked up the habit in the first place, since it wasn't likely to have been influenced or enabled by Thessia, a world whose inhabitants were highly resistant to most addictive substances, and frequently limited their import and distribution preemptively. Her batarian experience was by far the most probable instigator. That race produced some of the most potent luxury cigars in the galaxy, and they were appropriately proud of them.

Tevos sat across from Aria while she ate, reviewing some notes as well as occasionally observing her, to Aria's mild chagrin. After she finished, Tevos tentatively asked whether Aria intended to stay the night. A moment to ponder the question was all Aria required before replying affirmatively, leaving Tevos's heart to pleasantly twist just as it had on the first night they had spent together. As she spared a minute to rinse out Aria's glass, Tevos reflected on how she hadn't been sure if Aria would be in any mood to stay, with all that happened in just one evening on her mind. She was glad she was. Tevos had dearly wanted her to stay, to keep their troubling business in abeyance for just a few hours, to further rectify their misunderstanding, to drift back into that pleasant space that sometimes felt like genuine affection. And even if Aria had expressed disinterest in intimacy, Tevos would have attempted to keep her and entertain her otherwise. Anything to reverse the agony of inundation.

When they retreated to her bedroom, Tevos joined Aria in bed without taking the time to change out of her evening attire. She liked the way Aria had been looking at her for the past few minutes and couldn't bear to give her a reason to stop.

While wearily lying there, pivoted at the hip to face one another, Aria's eyes flitted downward to drink in the sight of the dress still wrapped around Tevos's svelte frame, divining and complementing her curves with slopes and planes of dark, rich fabric. Her eyes drew upward again to meet hers, and Aria issued an amused, cool-headed question, "Why don't you ever dress like that for me?"

"I could always ask you the same," Tevos replied with a smile, reaching out to lightly touch her fingertips to the comfortable shirt Aria wore, indicating its simplicity.

After nearly a minute of silence had passed, during which they had gazed at each other pensively, but infrequently did their eyes meet directly, Tevos decided to address the major source of uneasiness between them. "...I'd like to apologize again," she slowly began, curling a hand beneath her cheek for comfort, "for not telling you about Shiala and my other agents. I would have, if I were able to." Tevos found Aria peering at her calmly and perceptively, as if she were more than ready to relegate their incident to the past and pursue the more lucrative path of dwelling on the future instead. She answered Aria's pragmatism by leaning in closely and pressing her lips to her neck. The dusky, foreign scent of Aria's perfume made Tevos feel as though she had recently downed a glass of gin as well, as its effect was just as assuaging. "You know I'd never hurt you," she said to her.

Aria sighed a velvety laugh, her voice hushed when she replied with humor, "When you walked in earlier I thought you'd murdered someone already. I wondered if Falteus was still alive." She then turned to speak alluringly against the side of Tevos's head, "I'll remember that look whenever I'm in the mood."

Another appreciative kiss was placed upon Aria's neck, this one drawing forth a steady exhale that warmly met Tevos's shoulder. "Estulius—or anyone else he's funded—won't ever lay a hand on you again," she promised. Although the nature of their present conversation was more jocund than serious, the honesty of her statement arrived uncorrupted. She meant it; deeply, austerely, and irrefutably.

"What if they do?"

Tevos replied against her jaw with enough chilling conviction to make Aria grip at the back of her dress in twisted, subtle delight, "I'll ruin him."

Aria initially withdrew just far enough to pull her in with the hand at her back, and she kissed her with the lazy yet commanding complacency Tevos had become accustomed to. Always setting a fire inside her chest, blissful and painful at the same time, invariably seizing and asserting, and on some nights making her afraid that her heart would burst from sheer exhilaration. She tasted like gin, and she felt like an age-old passion that passed by a tragic amount of people who had never once obtained it, not even for a moment. A dreamy notion burrowed its way into Tevos's mind; the supposition that their troubles were always best resolved in this manner, by merely clinging tighter to one another, tighter and tighter, until they consummated a renewal of their trusts and comforts. What was doubt, in comparison to this certitude? What was fear, in comparison to this audacity? Adversities seemed to shrink and diminish, drowned by the magnitude of them.

When Tevos lifted a hand to touch her, Aria grasped her wrist and held her at bay, not yet sated by their kiss and endeavoring to extend it for a long as her hunger demanded. Tevos managed to twist her hand just enough to curl and stroke her fingertips against the back of Aria's hand once, brushing along taut tendons, sweetly and fondly, before Aria pulled away at last with shorter breaths and an almost casual, heedless question upon her lips, "When are you going to repay me?" She kissed her once more, firmly, warmly. "How about tonight?"

Tevos grew warmer at the explication of precisely what mood Aria was currently in, but she had no choice but to quietly and truthfully answer with some abashment, "I... haven't had the chance to rehearse. And I don't know when I will."

Aria made a sound in disapproval, a subtle hum that communicated her released but unsatisfied anticipation. Then came a tone of warning, enigmatic and dangerous in the way that it professed no absolute loyalty to severity nor drollness. "You're making me wait."

And she would _have_ to wait, despite her obstinate policy to never allow anyone to make her do so. In consolation Tevos pressed her lips to her neck again, and to her inner shoulder after using one hand to adjust the collar of her shirt. The hand migrated downward, to her chest where she grasped and massaged her flesh through her attire, mindfully lingering at the curves of her breasts, and after very little time, Tevos heard the metallic sound of Aria unfastening her belt. As soon as she was finished, Tevos kissed her jaw and slipped her hand into the front of her pants, drawing in a shaky breath when she found that Aria desired her as much as she had hinted and made no secret of it; merely from being kissed a while, from being intimately spoken to, from being afforded the chance to nurture those alluring conceptions laying root in her imagination. She touched Aria gently, savoring the way her impatience surfaced each time she teased at delivering what Aria was being made to wait for, a conflict that frustrated her from breaking through her personal parameters of tolerance, and wonderfully pleased her for all the defiance and delay of gratification it evoked, simultaneously.

Tevos felt Aria stir with purpose, sliding her legs along the sheets as she adjusted them to comfortably frame Tevos's hand, then extending an arm beneath Tevos's neck to curl it inward and brush her fingertips languidly against her upper back. She was enjoying this luxury, indulging as if it were a wine or a new divan, never nervous or hurried. Only undercurrents of excitement coursed her, revealed in full when Tevos slipped her fingers into her and drew a small sound from her lips, and a strangely pleased remark that her hands were cold. Aria's words had seemed to palpably unfurl in the air like dawn-grazed petals, and to Tevos's senses, they were just as lovely to witness.

She was slow with her tonight, recalling all that Aria liked most but ensuring that she would have ample time to savor every bit of it, for perhaps as long as she would permit. While Tevos listened to her breathing—always evolving, growing from steady to wistful—she ventured to wonder what it might be like to extend this until a point where Aria demanded that she be brought the end she was due. Amidst her fantasizing Tevos temporarily allowed herself to propose a frivolous reality in which she might simply keep Aria in her bed forever where she would never again be imperiled or harmed, where they might safeguard their treaty of peace in the most decadent manner possible, where she might be tempted to do this for her _every_ night instead of on convenient occasion. No more war to invade and pollute their experiencing of each other, no more Estulius, no more rampant death and betrayal and paranoia...

Tevos was only brought out of her musings when she heard Aria lowly speak against the side of her head, her voice heady with unstable breath and an almost viscous desire, "Can you use any biotics at all...?"

A kiss was pressed to her lower cheek as Tevos affectionately stroked the back of her neck. "I might," she softly replied, "but only a little."

She did so; cautiously assembling the most basic skill and concentration required to form just a thin sheath about her digits, gradually easing it into existence to be courteous to Aria, whose fingernails adhered closer and closer to her skin, unconsciously gauging the integrity of her biotics. If Tevos remembered anything about the habit it revealed when Aria was enjoying herself perhaps _too_ much, and she didn't mind the cathartic expression until a complete recollection of its side effects burst into the forefront of memory. Aria had perfunctorily raked her nails against Tevos's shoulder blades as a controlled but audible sound of pleasure escaped her lips, drawing sharp, burning lines of pain in their wake. On reflex Tevos lightly hissed in discomfort, telling Aria to stop. And Aria did, for a while—sliding her hands out from her dress and dulling the ministrations of her fingernails by abusing the material of her clothing instead. The attempt at mitigation greatly pleased Tevos, but only in gesture, as Aria's enthusiasm was easily felt through the thin layer. It was not as acutely biting as before, but it was as equally abrasive and uncomfortable to endure, and soon her tolerance was at its end.

"You need to stop _now_ ," Tevos said to her in a lethal whisper, stilling her hand for a time. She winced when Aria's nails had unmindfully slipped back into her dress and caught an exposed stretch of skin. Although she enjoyed possessing insight into what Aria was feeling, the discomfort had swiftly outgrown the benefits _._ "You need to stop," she repeated, then added with insinuation, "or I'll have to do something about it."

That made Aria laugh; a breathless, genuinely amused sound which delineated all the passion Aria had within her heart for those cold-blooded women who dared to challenge her, who thrilled her, and placed her so deeply in the throes of pleasure that it made her want to claw at their flesh. "What will you do, Councilor?" she purred, an indolent hum on her voice. Tevos could feel her heartbeat, pounding swiftly with arousal against varying points of contact. Its rate calmed minutely with every moment spent in abeyance, but Aria didn't seem to mind. It would only mean spending more time with those slender fingers between her legs, fueling her vanity and satisfaction. "What'll you do?" she asked again. She sounded as though she could hardly wait for an answer. Her hands were already delving back into Tevos's attire, lightly teasing her with the edges of her nails, and encouraging her to devise a method clever enough to make her stop.

Tevos felt like laughing in return when a solution spontaneously formed in her mind. So quickly had her displeasure evaporated upon seeing the look in Aria's eyes, glazed considerably by lust and vivid with excitement all at once. She reached out with her free hand to grasp the sheets, pulling in a heap large enough for them to be folded haphazardly and brought toward Aria's arms and wrists where they might have been draped or loosely tied about. After removing Aria's hands from her body she began twisting the sheets about her fists, coaxing repressed, breathless laughs out of them both. Tevos reached back in search of more of the sheets to properly secure her unsightly bind, but she was surprised to have brushed against a spot on Aria's waist that made her flinch and develop a terse expression of pain. She froze.

All traces of the reaction had vanished from Aria's face in less than a second, but Tevos was certain of what she had seen. She released the sheets from her grasp, and to Aria's disdain she ceased touching her altogether before investigating the location in question. When Tevos lifted the hem of Aria's shirt, uncovering her body all the way to her ribs, she found a region along her middle that was covered by a light concentration of bandaging, unstained, but indicative of tenderness and vulnerability while healing. Aria slapped her probing hands away and pushed her clothing back over the evidence, but it was much too late.

It was beyond Tevos as to why Aria had wanted to conceal it from her. She hadn't even seen it while Aria was dressing—she had been facing away from her. Possibly deliberately and strategically, in retrospect.

"I... I had no idea you were hurt," she said to Aria in bafflement, and what was beginning to feel like offense. "Why didn't you tell me?"

A hand gravitated upward to Aria's forehead, where she rubbed her temples in frustration. "I'm fine. I was stitched up on the scene, it's nearly healed, and it often slips my mind that it's even there. Now forget about it. Come here."

"Aria, no. No, no. We need to stop." Tevos drew further away from her despite the dissatisfaction mounting in Aria's features. "I'm not going to do this and have you start bleeding again." When she noticed Aria starting to sit up, Tevos meant to gently take her shoulder and ease her back down, but Aria caught her forearm and prevented her.

"Then what the hell now? You're just going to stop and go to sleep?"

"Did you even hear what I said? I'm not going to risk hurting you."

Aria rolled her eyes in exasperation. "You're _not_ going to hurt me. You couldn't, not even if you wanted to."

"It doesn't matter, I'm not doing this." When Tevos retrieved her arm, Aria allowed it to slide out of her grasp without overt objection. She sat there at the edge of her bed for a time, gazing down at Aria, who had propped herself up on one arm and glowered as her chest rose and fell with her breathing, labored and frequent. It was likely that her heart still raced, even while Tevos could no longer feel it against her skin. Drifting attention brought Tevos to the sight of her pants, open and clinging to the licentious curve of her hips in their lack of a belt. To Tevos she looked both exquisitely sensual and a bit silly, although she would never state that to Aria, and _particularly_ not now. She wondered what Aria thought of her; the only one who had ever refused her, not once but twice now, and this time committing at least double the transgression as the first for the circumstances. Would she no longer want to sleep with her, given that Tevos was not only difficult to persuade into bed, but even more difficult to _keep_ in bed?

"Who did this?" Tevos asked her.

Aria didn't immediately respond, being occupied with the dilemma of selectively editing reality versus outright denying the councilor any reply at all. In the end she chose the least-taken route, a third route, dilapidated and oft forgotten by disuse: the truth. "Your Spectre," she casually said.

Tevos eyed her with a shadow of guilt in her face. Was an apology appropriate? She failed to determine whether it was, and merely retained her silence in resolution. Their extended quiet was only broken by a proposition, originating from Aria.

"I'll tell you what, sweetheart," Aria said gently, and to Tevos's understanding, therefore hazardously. "If you come here and touch me, I'll do whatever you like in return. You like it a certain way, you like something you're afraid to ask for... I'll do it for you."

In response to her bargaining Tevos drew closer, the increasing proximity between the two causing the arrogance and gratification in Aria's expression to proportionately peak. But after she kissed the corner of her mouth, Tevos whispered an answer that Aria was not expecting, "No."

She felt another frustrated exhale against her neck. Aria wasn't happy, that much was obvious, but Tevos was fairly adamant in her decision. Aria had no business indulging in such activities while injured, simply for the danger of aggravating her wounds. Still, Tevos felt vaguely contrite when she felt Aria clutching her, smoothing her hands and fingertips over her back and periodically slipping into her dress where they found the delicate raised lines she had painted there in unmoderated delight, persuading and suggesting that she continue, all while supremely confident that Tevos knowing that she wanted her would suffice as her primary argument. And it _was_ a compelling one. Who in their right mind could reject Aria, with the warmth of her body filling her chest with passion, with the roasting look in her eyes promising that a few more minutes of her attention would be more than worthwhile, with the front of her pants pulled open in complete (and mildly suspicious) forgiveness of the hand that had left them, awaiting its return without tangible penalty? She was _so_ beautiful, _so_ powerful, so much of everything that Tevos found it difficult to breathe for a moment.

She wanted to touch her as much as Aria wanted her to. Her desire hasn't disappeared in the slightest. Tevos couldn't help but allow her imagination to create scenarios that would not come to fruition tonight; wandering private thoughts of touching her lips to her chest, to the area of her wound, to her lovely hips that belied and distracted from all the glorious danger Aria embodied. She wondered if Aria would have liked that, if she had gently taken one of her legs and folded it over her shoulder, replaced her fingers with her lips and kissed her there—

Tevos leaned in to press her mouth against Aria's, silencing her own thoughts as if they had been voiced. The intended sole kiss became several more, as lazy and profound as she had come to know and expect, until she had wrapped her arms around Aria's shoulders and participated in holding them together.

Aria would not receive the physical touch she desired, but Tevos offered her a substitute; a warm chill descending their spines, prickling nerves and sharing flesh, and instilling the feeling of being doubly embraced. She was granted permission to melt into her thoughts, filling her with presence and being filled in return. And she stole a moment to speak to Aria without her voice, bringing attention to the fact that this was an opportunity to sleep together in the more traditional fashion, and as Aria slyly added, without being _degenerates_ as was once the taboo. Tevos was sure to clarify that the stigma regarding mating without melding had peaked in commonality well before her time.

For a while they lay there integrating themselves in each other's conscience, amalgamating and blending as though they were to emerge as a homogenous alloy. Aria was just as lax as earlier, lounging about in their unity and radiating her confidence and composure into Tevos, encouraging her to do as she pleased without self-doubt or regret. She did so, finding their mental landscape welcoming enough to begin pouring her affection into their shared bloodstream of sensation and comprehension—all those looming concerns of whether Aria had survived the ambush at the refinement plant, the immensity of her relief upon hearing from her again later on in the day, and the way that having Aria in her bed had banished all her problems and anxieties for the night, just as she always did. She acquainted her with all the ways in which she wanted to touch her, kiss her, and have her all to herself for the evening, even those that could not be.

Aria enjoyed every moment of the profuse attention; basking in the experience of being adored and never once proposing an end to the stream of thoughts that wrapped around her core like sheets of silk or woven gold. Tevos had known she would like it. She wondered how many other past partners had spilled the contents of their heart into Aria as she did now, and whether Aria had let the torrent fill her up inside as if she had imbibed it, and if the pools of untreated emotion had always been as equally delicious to her. In blatant honesty, Tevos hoped they hadn't been. She hoped that Aria had never felt so marvelous with any other individual, and that she never _would_ again if she ceased to be a partner to her.

Her own thoughts led Tevos to the realization that there truly _was_ a spiteful woman in the depths of her, cold and competitive and overly concerned with status. And Aria could sense her spite as soon as it was highlighted by her sudden awareness of it. The quality was a bitter substance, tempered by repression until it lurked like a secret. Perhaps Aria thought it ugly of her, that it somehow undermined her most outspoken values and made her terribly hypocritical.

But Aria expressed no such revulsion. No, she _liked_ it. Tevos could feel her approval rising in her chest like a thermal, warming her and confusing her until she could interpret the nuanced emotion Aria had donated to their union. She _liked_ her spite. She liked the coldness of her anger, the dark, vengeful gleam in her eyes whenever the turian councilor was mentioned. What Tevos gleaned from Aria was that it somehow made her whole; not an aspirant manifestation of some political ideal, not an empty-hearted opportunist who only declared loyalty where it was most convenient, but a person of great subtlety and complex motive. Opaque, burdened by personal foible, and utterly real. Aria wanted to kiss her. She did, and held her face and the back of her neck steady while she procured her indulgence.

Tevos could feel pieces of Aria's opinion of her fleeting by in the infinitesimal spaces between them. She grasped at them, and most evaded her as easily as individual droplets of rainwater might, but into her hands was she able to collect a few sparks of perception that stole her breath from her lungs. She found that Aria was attached to her as closely as she once surmised, that she respected her proudly and generously as the other half of their alliance, that she felt her faculties to be invaluable, and that she took great pleasure in her company. If Tevos had ever feared her heart to have verged on bursting, those times pitifully paled in comparison to the swell she felt in her chest now.

They were the most divine being in the universe whenever they were together like this. Between them suspended limitless capability and inexorable will, empowered by the distance of their origins as if the galaxy had once labored frantically to keep them separate in anticipation of what could become of their meeting.

To Tevos, the feeling their meld had engendered was so very histrionic and obliterating that she felt as though she might die if confined to herself again.


	31. Ghost or Machine I

A multitude of faces passed through the enhanced focal center of Rasma's visor as she observed the crowds, vigilantly searching for but one countenance in particular. The intelligence carefully procured over the last few nights had guaranteed the presence of her target. Various races and ages were perceived, and by now Rasma had caught at least a dozen combinations matching Sahra Parem Igrahal's, but none yet had reflected her propensity for gaudy and heavy jewelry, nor her sour expression of perpetual dissatisfaction. Rasma's search continued as her two teammates aided her by spying a different section of the masses, although their progress was severely hindered by their periodic bickering over the single binocular handset they had been forced to share between them. Blame for the lack of equipment had been dodged by all parties, none of whom wanted to admit failure in contacting the appropriate requisition officer prior to the mission.

Near anonymity was granted to Eingana by their position; seated high in the stands and surrounded by a sea of unruly and enthusiastic spectators to the event transpiring in the arena below. Two teams of three were ducking behind the cover available to them as they exchanged relentless fire. Aiming to kill and nothing less. Liselle could hear one team's name rising up in a chant from the other side of the arena as their favorite gained ground against their adversaries, pushing them back until they were virtually braced against the impenetrable wall corralling their match. Flecks of light bounced off the sedentary crates and barriers—ricocheting bullets seeking targets with frantic determination. The credit prize promised to the victor was worth all the lives in the stadium, as far as the combatants were concerned, and it was fortunate that a kinetic barrier had domed the match, shielding non-participants from the heedless violence straining to escape the pit.

While Malak had his turn with the handset, Liselle abided with her average vision, gazing at the crowd's indistinct faces in vain with her hands twisting and fidgeting discontentedly in her lap. Rasma's copious experience in espionage had led them here, to a popular death-match arena in central Kenzo. It seemed curious that a woman so busy as Sahra Igrahal would waste her time with such a base event, but Rasma had followed her communications closely enough to have confidently issued the order for Eingana to purchase tickets and attend. However it had nearly been a half hour since the first match began, and Liselle was beginning to wonder if Igrahal had discovered that Rasma was tapping into her communications and evaded them at the last possible moment. Part of her didn't much care.

Liselle had been in an awful mood since the night her mother finally returned Samesia's records to her. She had attempted to remedy her ill spirits by talking extensively with Telycialux Daus about their distress over Bothan Korgess, and visiting Anthya twice. On her first visit, Liselle had arrived with a small bouquet of flowers only to discover that other more ostentatious arrangements were already occupying Anthya's bedside table, as well as a few other chairs and furniture items within the hospital room. Anthya seemed no less pleased to receive another, and while finding a spot for her addition to the emergent garden, Liselle had curiously read the tags attached to each. There were some from her coworkers, some from people Liselle had never heard of who had written sickly sweet messages, and one from Aria—a translucent, blue crystal vase with perfect violet blooms rising from its depths, with their stems submerged in a mixture of water and liquid nutrition to facilitate a longevity which would outlive all the other arrangements by weeks. Its presence had surprised Liselle. She wondered if such an affectionate gesture was normal for Aria, then realized that she had little to compare it to. Whether Aria had ever maintained any personal relationships in the past, and what they had entailed, was completely unknown to Liselle. Did she treat them all similarly? Was Anthya special? Was Aria no stranger to affection, and was that why Anthya claimed to love her so? Aria made it look so easy; concealing and compartmentalizing her behavior from person to person, never overlapping, never seeming to contradict. Liselle envied the ability, intensely.

On Liselle's second visit to Anthya, she had brought with her a package of her favorite sweets, hoping to not find the furniture already covered with similar gifts as was the case last time. History did not repeat itself, however, and Liselle spent much of the afternoon talking with Anthya as they shared the sweets together.

At last Malak handed the binocular handset over to Liselle, reclining in his seat to watch the fray unfold while Liselle brought the set up to her eyes and looked through to behold the impeccably clear sight of the spectators directly across from their position.

Over the last several hours available to her for contemplation, Liselle had clumsily, albeit staunchly, arrived at the conclusion that she _had_ been treating Aria unfairly. After reviewing Samesia's files Liselle had realized that it was of little wonder why Aria had attempted to conceal the truth from her for so long. Who could take pleasure in knowing that one's other parent dismissed them as nothing more than an accident, who was so nonchalant and careless about the necessary secrecy that would protect their offspring from certain death? Certainly there was a sense of closure to be gained from uncovering the truth, but it hadn't warmed her heart any. On the contrary it had chilled Liselle so thoroughly to the bone that the feeling instilled there resembled feverish nausea. But then she had returned to who Aria had been during her childhood. Protective, devoted, and always present the very instant Liselle needed her. She had been there all along, sacrificing, organizing, compromising, all for Liselle's health and happiness. Aria had kept myriad secrets from her, but she had never led Liselle to believe that she didn't. In recollection, Aria had never lied to her. Not even once.

Aria had been the best thing that had ever happened to her, the very best mother she could fathom possessing. Aria, Zuria, Iaera... They had all willingly surrendered so much of their lives to Liselle. And what had Liselle ever given them in return? Entitled whining and complaining whenever she was even slightly inconvenienced?

She hoped she had been a good daughter to Aria. She hoped Aria thought all the trouble had been worth it. And if it hadn't been up to that point, things were going to change.

While lost to the contriteness of her thoughts, Liselle's focus had wandered from the crowds in the stands to the arena below. She could see the fine lettering on the combatants' gear and count every finger on their gloved and armored hands, twitching fervently against the triggers of their firearms. A sudden uproar jolted her attention when one combatant was shot dead from a quick succession of shield-piercing rounds aimed to the head. Liselle watched him die as the gun left his lifeless grip, clattering inaudibly to the ground immediately before his body joined it in an inglorious, motionless heap. She lowered the binocular handset from her face.

It wasn't as jarring as it used to be, but something inside her, something like respect or sorrow, still couldn't bear to enjoy it.

"Hey," Malak abruptly said to her, extending his empty hand. "If you're not going to look for our target, hand them over."

She did, not much in the mood to contest him.

"No need," Rasma spoke up for the first time since the match began. "I've got a visual on her. Third row from the bottom, nine seats from the rightmost aisle."

"I see her," Malak concurred.

Liselle located the indicated seat, but could not distinguish the face. Instead she continued to reply upon Rasma's narration for confirmation. "What's she doing?" she asked.

"Nothing much. Sitting, watching. But not having fun—that's the important part. She's not here for entertainment. She's here for something else. Looks like she also brought about five or so bodyguards with her. Keep an eye on them as well." Rasma locked onto Sahra Igrahal's face with her visor and highlighted it red, providing them some insurance for the future if they lost their visual while in pursuit. "We'll have to wait until they move out, which might not happen until the whole show is over. In the meantime just act natural and don't do anything that might attract attention. I'm going to send an update to the boss."

"Good luck," Malak wryly cautioned her. "I tried getting in touch with her an hour ago and she hasn't responded." He turned to Liselle, passing the handset to her. "But maybe Liselle can get her attention, since, well, you know..."

Liselle exchanged an intensely wary stare with him for a few moments until replying, "Yeah. I'll send it."

After Rasma sent Liselle her report, she forwarded it to Aria with the expectation that she would prioritize and read it at the first available opportunity. And just when Liselle thought herself free to daydream as she pleased for the next hour or so, Malak decided to address her again.

"I'll admit, I never expected you, ah... being who you are," he said. "I was expecting someone... taller."

She frowned and sank into her seat, withdrawing from his scrutiny. "I've gotten that before," she muttered.

"So how did it happen?"

"How did _what_ happen?" Liselle leered at him in perturbation.

"You know...! How did she choose you?"

" _Choose_ me?" She sat upright again. "What the hell are you talking about?"

_"You know!"_ he emphatically repeated in a hissed insistence. By now even Rasma was listening in on their conversation, her intent only betrayed by her silence and the occasional peripheral glance. When Malak spoke again, he leaned in to minimize the volume his voice would normally require to reach her. "How'd she know you'd be secret enforcer material? A spy among spies, all that? Watching over her own operatives? Was it because you're the last one people would ever suspect?"

Liselle was confounded. "You... Is _that_ who you think I am?" she whispered in return.

"Aren't you?"

Her reply was considerably delayed. Liselle had previously been so certain of Malak and Rasma's knowledge of her being Aria's daughter, that she felt like bursting into laughter and vomiting. She fortunately resisted the urge to do either (Athame forbid both at once) and focused on whether she should deny Malak's actual assumption.

A secret enforcer. One step away from a lieutenant, and even then the distinction was known to blur. That Malak considered it possible for Liselle to occupy the rank was outrageously flattering to the point where it came off as insane. For a second she suspected him of cruelly toying with her. But Rasma's curiosity was also present, growing more austere and invested as time passed.

They _truly_ believed this of her. They believed this was a product of Aria T'Loak's unfathomable brilliancy; an unassuming, almost incapable young agent sent out to monitor Eingana without the slightest hint of fear of being discovered. Aria's tolerance of Liselle's defiance and fumbling was false and merely a cover for her side mission. Liselle's knowledge of classified intelligence was but a transient glimpse into all the precious other secrets confided in her legendary level of clearance. In their minds, it posed a perfect fit for Liselle's strange and inexplicable circumstances.

But what would confirming it mean for Liselle? Her hesitance was highly reasonable. A secret enforcer was an identity much too heavy to shoulder without any pertinent experience. But at the same time it was more than just a chance to excessively burden herself or practically consent to her own downfall. It was a chance at something new. A new persona, a new beginning. To be someone bolder, someone of status and skill. Liselle was under no delusion that she was any of those things... but she could not conceive any other way to arrive at those heights aside from faking it all the way to the top.

Perhaps that was how all natural progression in life was achieved, she mused. Stepping into spaces and skins far too large for their occupants, who passionately willed themselves to fit until the day they finally did.

When Liselle replied, she did so just above the unceasing chatter of the crowds, "Yes."

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Tevos had slept uninterrupted until the chime of her alarm roused her. Morning was filtering through the blinds just as it did each day at this time, the hue and intensity never varying with the procession of seasons and kept relatively uniform by the Presidium's faithful environmental schedule. As higher consciousness began to fill her head, she became aware of a light disturbance in the otherwise peaceful silence: metallic clicking, originating in the general direction of her walk-in closet.

When she turned beneath the sheets to investigate, Tevos found Aria to be the source of the sound, generated whenever she continued sliding countless coat hangers along the polished steel bars suspended in her closet. Once again Aria's insatiable curiosity had her rifling through Tevos's belongings, but this time it was not so much to the councilor's chagrin. On a previous occasion Tevos had pried the jewelry from her probing hands, wishing to remove as many points of insight into her life from Aria's reach as possible. Back then, Aria had been an inscrutable source of danger and concern, needing to be held at a comfortable distance for fear of what her sly ambition might have wrought. Now her aversion to personal proximity was absent, replaced with an ease toward Aria so steady it might have been appropriate for Tevos to remind herself that she was, strictly speaking, still a guest and not an indefinite cohabiter.

She had never before felt so close Aria, so inclined to share with her the space and possessions of her home. Tangible items were of little worth when held against what they were already in the habit of sharing—emotion and thoughts, sensation and body... And as of the previous night, fragments of a dream, if Tevos's memory was accurate and not a wistful product of her solitary unconscious design.

Tevos could not recall the point at which they had untangled their identities. She certainly hadn't been awake when it occurred, but asleep in bed, with her arms still around Aria to help maintain the most reliable connection between their bodies possible. She only remembered the slow decline of sensible, orderly thought, and the drift into swirls of vague reverie. And there had been a window of vulnerability, of defenselessness, when sleep stole away active volition and dissolved the careful guardianship of private thought. Nothing of vital importance had been exchanged, but to have been with Aria so intimately at the twilight of lucidity, if only for several minutes as their minds slowly unwound, was something utterly sacred to Tevos. So many tame and tender shards of cognition were born between their minds, mere figments of nonsense and abstract flecks of indecipherable experience, as they breathed for one another, survived as one by the life of the other. Tevos could not forget it, any of it. She never would.

She didn't know how Aria felt about it. She didn't know if it should be regarded as accidental and needing to be avoided in the future. Tevos only knew that maybe, just _maybe_... she might have loved her.

If it was true it was certainly a secret to be fiercely kept from Aria. It would thoroughly mortify Tevos if she ever came to know. After all, what was to be expected from Aria at the moment of confession? Laughter, disparagement, rejection?

Tevos consoled herself with conjecture. How could anyone in the universe not come to love someone with whom they've shared a conscience? Only those without a single drop of empathy in their blood could hope to escape inevitable attachment. To see through another's eyes, feel their passions and fears and woes, their pleasure and their pain... it was incomparable. Perhaps it was the sole reason as to why her people were as they were, why war had been so uncommon in their history. When enemies traded their thoughts, how could either withdraw from a meld with violent intentions intact, when they had just become something vastly more than themselves, a new and transcendent gestalt whose creation was only possible through harmonious unity? To destroy the other would thenceforth be akin to destroying the self as well.

Thus it was not so strange at all, thought Tevos, to feel love for Aria. She felt love for her as she felt love toward living, existing, experiencing. Loving her for having a place in her life, for occupying a singular moment that could never be replicated by the universe again. She even loved her _now_ , while Aria did nothing of special value except aimlessly sort through her clothes.

But whether it was _romantic_ love engendered immense contention within her, uncomfortably twisting in her stomach like anxiety. Tevos decided to let her feelings settle, at the very least. The emotional swell in her chest was of no use to her when so new and unpredictable. It was perfectly possible for the feeling to diminish before the afternoon. Still the clinking of hangers sounded, measured and regular.

"Aria, what _are_ you doing in there?" Tevos asked her, shifting her position in bed to better peer into the closet where she might answer her own question more accurately than Aria would ever bother to. Tevos managed to obtain an unobscured view of Aria's back and watched as she pulled coats, jackets, and other articles from her impeccably laundered and executive wardrobe, then briefly don them with an accompanying glance in a wall-mounted mirror. Most items fit her fairly well, but occasionally she came across those that had been professionally tailored to closely adhere to Tevos's measurements. Whenever Aria slipped an arm into these specimens she would notice immediately, withdraw her limb, and promptly return the clothing article to its former hanger.

Eventually Aria emerged from the closet with an imported white fur coat in hand, one Tevos remembered to have been purchased well before she had even known Aria, and possibly even before Aria had known Omega. She heard Aria idly remark that she had once owned a similar coat. Aria pulled her arms through the sleeves as she tried it on, only retreating back into the closet to use the mirror for a few seconds of self-admiration.

"How do I look?" Aria asked her upon stepping into view again, indifferent to the banality of the question. She grasped the supple lapels to modify how the shroud of ivory fur draped over her shoulders. Once maximum comfort and presentation had been achieved, she posed by slightly rotating her waist and resting a confident hand on her hip.

Tevos thought she looked stunning, just as she usually did. Aria's severe good looks and the cunning power with which she displayed them could make common cotton fabrics seem as lustrous and radiant as polished platinum. That she presently wore fur only made the disparity easier to traverse. "Like a million credits," Tevos softly replied with a hint of humor and in a voice still weighted by the remnants of sleep. Aria could have modeled anything at all in her collection and Tevos would have been liable to issue the same judgement.

Aria's brow lowered in vexation as she spoke dryly, "Oh sweetheart, I'm worth much more than that."

An attempt was made to conceal the growing smile on her lips. Tevos revised her statement to better suit Aria's expectations. "Very well," she said. "Add a pair of matching heels and you'd be representing a designer's winter collection."

"I know," Aria received the compliment without the slightest effort to conceal her vanity. She smirked at Tevos before turning to gaze at her reflection again. "I'm borrowing this," she decisively announced.

Tevos slipped her legs out from the sheets, placed her feet upon the floor, but before she could rise from bed she noticed that she was still wearing the same evening dress from the night before, creased, wrinkled, and hitching up along her legs. With a wry exhale she gave her best effort to flatten out the fabric with her hands, then stood to begin preparing for work. "You can't borrow the coat," she forbade Aria while joining her in the closet. "Too many people have seen me wear it and I don't want to hazard making any connections between us, especially when they can be avoided."

Noticing her reach for one dress in particular, Aria took one leisurely step to the side and impeded her, keeping Tevos's attention upon her alone for the time being. "Don't tell me that you're ashamed of me now."

She rolled her eyes at Aria's joking. "You seem to be in a remarkably good mood this morning," Tevos noted, reaching out again for her dress, this time circumventing Aria's body.

"Do I?"

Tevos nodded. With her dress in hand she returned to her room, headed for a dresser where she retrieved several additional items. Aria was still preoccupied with the contents of the mirror when Tevos caught her attention again with a question, her voice somewhat muffled by the half-closed door to the closet.

"Aria, have you happened to come across my necklace? The one my mother gave me? Do you remember it?"

"I remember it," she inattentively replied. "But no, I haven't seen it."

For nearly another minute Tevos opened and shut the drawers of her jewelry case, affording them each a cursory search. She migrated to her clothing drawers, then spared a glance to both beneath and behind the dresser itself. Remembering her schedule, she was forced to postpone her search for a later time, concluding that she had merely misplaced the necklace and that it would turn up eventually, since it hadn't left her home in several years and would therefore remain somewhere within.

While deeply invested in trying to recall the last time she had it in hand, Tevos retreated into her bathroom, shut the door behind her, and ran her shower. Instinct warned her about the consequences of leaving Aria to her own devices, but Tevos found the threat of excessive exploration and general mischief to be minimal, so long as Aria was entertained by her clothes. Her conceit knew no bounds when appropriately fed.

During her shower Tevos had reached back to run her fingertips against the easily accessible areas of her back, feeling for any raised lines or crescent-shaped indentations Aria might have left behind the previous night. She didn't feel any, but if she wanted to visually confirm their absence she would require a second mirror, preferably hand-held, in addition to the one above her sink. Tevos found it curious that she was conflicted over whether she would've liked to find any or not. Potential reminders of who Aria was in bed; both rough and soft, frequently demanding, and almost always with her proverbial (and literal) claws extended. Tevos put it out of mind while dressing and readying her appearance, leaving reality to mystery and instead dwelling on all the work that needed to be addressed and completed by the day's end.

When she emerged from her bathroom Tevos located Aria in the armchair she so regularly occupied whenever in her bedroom, checking her omni-tool for correspondences with one of Tevos's lighter coats hanging about her shoulders—a creamy beige material divided by minor borders and planes of bold black geometry, and the time of acquisition dating back roughly eighty years.

The councilor sent a quick message to her C-Sec escort, informing them that she would be ready to leave for the Embassies in approximately twenty minutes, then opened her agenda to see what amendments and insertions her secretary had made over the last day.

"Today is the petition that will determine whether the batarian deportation measure will come into immediate effect," she mused aloud for Aria's benefit. "Wonderful. By the way... can you send me all the files you extracted from Neora's hardsuit?"

Aria raised a brow in interest. "What are you planning?"

"When I arrange communications with Medora I want to have all the data implicating Kiava Vathesa at the ready. If Medora can confirm that High Command ordered the murder of my Spectre, we have strong evidence that it indeed occurred. It is, bluntly, a bit of blackmail at our disposal, if absolutely necessary. Anonymously leaving incriminating documents on a popular extranet forum to call into question the integrity of a government body... It is not a difficult game to mimic." Tevos began briskly filling a somber-hued designer satchel with a few datapads and other electronic and personal accessories. She did not notice the approval in Aria's eyes when she promised that she would send her the aforementioned files.

"There's another thing I need to ask of you," said Tevos, pausing to meet Aria's gaze. "How would you feel about remaining on the Citadel for another day?"

"Why?" Aria inquired, sounding aptly suspicious.

"Well, a certain date on my calendar is quickly approaching." She temporarily returned to her preparations, disengaging from the conversation to retrieve a pair of heels from her closet shelves and pull them on before stepping back out and resuming her elaboration. "The expiration of our treaty is in just a few weeks, and I'd like to make an appointment for you to come into my office to sign a renewal." Tevos lifted a compact mirror from her bag and looked into it, assuring herself that she was in no need of any concealing cosmetics to erase the traces of her cumulative sleepless nights.

"And this is something I need to do in person?"

A curt exhale departed the councilor as she lowered her hands and addressed Aria directly, facing her with her entire body and appearing mildly bothered that she was being forced to do so. "It's good publicity," she said. "Media will air stories about you being here to sign it. Publicity has become the entire effectual point of signing it these days, after all. While the alliances of the Terminus Systems are complex and volatile, the vast majority of them can at some point be traced back to you as somewhat of a determinant. Therefore your word is sufficient reassurance that the Terminus Systems and Council space are not at odds with one another. And this reassurance is quite welcomed. The treaty we have encourages trade and consumerism, provides a sense of security to business ventures and partnerships in the Attican Traverse, reallocates funding from military to domestic welfare... As you can see, I have a deeper purpose for this. It's not solely about _keeping you in check_ , as most people would believe."

"So you want to _use_ me for your politics?" Aria asked. There was an uninterpretable gleam in her eyes, betraying the leveled patience of her tone.

"I'm not forcing you to sign it," said Tevos. "No one's holding you hostage this time. But I still request this because while it will only pose a day's inconvenience for you, it will _greatly_ benefit the Citadel for several decades. So no, I'm not using you. You can choose whether you want to help me or not."

Aria peered at her unceasingly as she contemplated, holding herself at an initial slightly-forward lean. Eventually she reclined and lifted a ponderous hand to her jaw, but never broke her stare with the councilor. "You're asking a lot from me, Tevos. Omega's never well when I'm away for too long."

"It's only a day, Aria. The earliest appointment I can schedule for you is tomorrow, provided that I inform my secretary this morning. It's within my ability to roll over some of my lower priority engagements to the following day in the case of an emergency."

"And how exactly would this be an emergency?"

"Simply due to the fact that it requires colossal effort to convince you to sign at all."

After several long seconds of rigid staring, Aria lowered her hand to the armrest and made her decision. "All right. I'll sign it." Seeing a pleased expression materialize on Tevos's face, Aria interrupted her celebration by adding, "But Tevos—you owe me. You've been accumulating a lot of debts lately, and I hope you intend to repay them."

"Of course," she said, no longer much impressed by Aria's firm cautioning. She made to deny her any chance of changing her mind by gathering up the bag she would take with her into the Embassies and addressed a few more items of housekeeping before departure, "I'll have to book you a hotel room to make your stay legitimate, as well as send word to Citadel Control to confirm that I personally authorized your arrival. I suppose I'll say that I kept it off-record to protect you from the unwanted attention someone of your profile might attract. You'll have to personally check into the hotel room sometime during the day, but whether you want to stay there for the night is up to you. If you want to stay here, help yourself to any food or amenities you require, but keep in mind that while I'm away all of my alarms and security programs will be online. You won't be able to leave or return until I've remotely disabled them. If you need me to, call or message me and I'll take care of it. And Aria—thank you. I appreciate you doing this for me."

"I'm sure you do," said Aria.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

When the final combatant on the losing team was caught by a grenade that had been rolled surreptitiously to his feet, whose resulting blast ruptured sections of his armor plating and presumably his insides, the audience erupted into a dissonant clamor of cheers, shouts, and sounds of sordid delight. People were standing in their seats, raising their fists in a fury of excitement. Several rows down, a brawl had broken out and quickly stole the spotlight from the victorious team. Many spectators had begun to leave at that point, wisely avoided the developing chaos in the stands. Sahra Igrahal was among them, spotted quickly shuffling along the row and headed for the nearest exit, while using her cluster of bodyguards to muscle her way through all who impeded her path.

"Let's go," Rasma said to the other members of Eingana. They rose from their seats and began sidestepping along their own row in the same general direction as their target, hoping to move swiftly enough to catch sight of her again outside of the arena. Occasionally Liselle found herself ducking to avoid food item projectiles, and once their trio was forced to climb into the row above them to avoid a heated argument between two krogan with their hands on their sidearms. Apparently there had been a dizzying amount of credits on the match, and unfair sabotage was being cited as the reason for the loser's defeat.

After their short hike they successfully thrust themselves through the last several meters of crowding people and emerged from the back entrance, onto the streets where many spectators still congregated aimlessly, chatting about the match and deciding what iniquitous diversion to attend next. Rasma was instantly at work again, activating her visor to relocate Sahra Igrahal. She waded through the gray faces in search of the single red highlight, and when she found it, the turian whisked Eingana away into the nearest alley where they could discreetly monitor the woman without being seen.

Sahra Igrahal, standing within the half-circle formed by her guards, remained stationary near the entrance of a restaurant both fortunate and unfortunate enough to receive the custom of the disruptive mass of people flooding the area, still agitated and high on violence. There Igrahal remained for almost five minutes with her arms folded in obvious impatience until a nervous figure ambled up from the traffic. The individual was wearing an enviro-suit, quite uncommon in style and structure, and as Liselle noticed, there was a frequency of illustrative hand-gestures in their communication with the batarian tycoon. Three-fingered hands, she saw.

It was a quarian. Male, at a presumptuous first glance. He conversed with Igrahal for no more than thirty seconds. Their conversation ended with an exchange that almost escaped Eingana's notice: a quick transferral of an object that fit within the palm of Igrahal's hand and was just as easily concealed by a loosely-clenched fist which retracted into her pocket. A terse handshake was their final interaction, and they disengaged, off on their separate ways.

"Follow the quarian," Rasma ordered them.

"The quarian?" Malak asked. "What about Sahra—"

"We can follow her whenever we want," she said. "But that quarian... we might never see him again if we let him get away."

At her command Eingana pulled away from the alley and pursued their new quarry, down the long streets at an unsuspicious distance, watching the minutia of his movements with predatory intent as he periodically cast paranoid looks over his shoulder to assess his surroundings. Every so often a brisk two-step jog would propel him forward, consequently laying ruin to any discretion he was trying to preserve. Rasma made note of this to her companions. Whoever he was, he was inexperienced as a messenger and likewise tragically unfamiliar with the art of downplaying one's status as an easy target.

" _Shit_ ," Malak mumbled with incredulity as the quarian paused to frantically glance around himself before crossing a busy avenue. "Just watching the poor bastard is making me want to mug him myself."

They shadowed him into a shuttle bay, camouflaging themselves amid the commuters and departing flights until the quarian found a shuttle inbound for the Kima District. It would leave in less than five minutes. Eingana waited for two more after he boarded, then filed into the same compartment they'd seen him enter. After paying their fare, the three operatives disassociated themselves into separate seats and rode out the flight in silence, refraining from making eye contact with one another as well as with the quarian. Despite never allowing herself to observe him, Liselle imagined for herself that he was either deathly still with anxiety, or fidgeting incessantly the entire time.

When the shuttle docked for landing, its occupants poured out and down a flight of stairs into the central plaza of the residential Kima District, dispersing them amongst various apartment complexes and the occasional street funneling into small shopping centers. The persistent Eingana never lost their quarian as they followed his tremulous figure through alleyways lined with glowing hologram advertisements and over bridges beneath which skycar traffic eerily droned. Eventually he led them to a street densely and disorderly packed with homes that resembled dark capsules when viewed at a distance, as if scattered there by the hand of a careless celestial giant and fused directly into the station's metal skeleton. When he disappeared into one of them, Eingana was perched on a street overlooking the area. Rasma halted them to evaluate the situation.

"All right, here's the plan," she said. "We need to get in there and ask him a few questions. If we invoke Aria's authority things shouldn't get _too_ messy, but we also need to make sure he doesn't contact any outside allies until we've determined that he's not our enemy. The problem is that we have no idea who he is to Igrahal, and we have no idea who else might be in there with him. I'm calling in some backup." She brought up her contact list in her omni-tool. "Does anyone know of a team of operatives available at the moment? Is Sehtor free? Or are they the ones Aria sent back into Igrahal's hospital?"

"Sehtor is free," Liselle supplied. "I talked to Daus just this morning and he told me his team has been running dead-ends for the last two days. He'll help with this."

Rasma called him. A brief conversation confirmed Sehtor's availability to support Eingana's raid, and Daus gave his word to have his team armed and ready to storm the premises at their side in less than a half hour. And they waited, patiently sitting there at the edge of the street like the many loiterers and mendicants that could be spotted in nearly every gutter on Omega. Their equipment was the only feature about them that drew the occasional second glance, but apathy ultimately kept their business secret.

Sehtor arrived on time, armed and with their shields already online. Eingana adopted the same preparedness and together the teams descended into the peculiar yard of homes, reviewing the plan of action in detail and assigning contigent roles to each person. Saerirn and Hiral would stand guard over every occupant rounded up and brought into a central room, confiscating or disabling every item of technology capable of communications. Meanwhile, the rest of them would throughly search the home as swiftly as they could, eviscerating every possible hiding spot until they had secured the building completely. The coordination was simple and effective. All clearly understood the plan and expressed no qualm, until they stood just several meters before the structure itself. Daus had suddenly stalled, his eyes widening with a sudden recognition and hesitance upon gazing up at the sullen, silent doorway to the coal-hued capsule. Rasma inquired as to why he seemed so disturbed.

"I..." he distantly began, "I've been here before."

_"What?"_ Rasma said in a fierce whisper. "When? For what?"

"Vathesa. She... she sent me here twice, on these mundane escort jobs. I was escorting patients during transfers. She would only send her sickest patients here, saying they were beyond her capability to heal and only the people here could help them. That's all she ever told me. And I've only ever spoken to one person here—this nervous quarian, hell of a jumpy guy—who thanked me and took in the patients. I don't know what they're about. They could be another outpost like Vathesa's. You know, those 'charity' sorts who like spreading around anti-Aria propaganda."

Rasma herded the six of them back in a temporary retreat, rounding the sharp corner of a building. "If you've been there before," she told Daus, "you could potentially make this easier for all of us. Would that quarian recognize you if he found you at the door? Would he trust you and let you in?"

"I... I'm not sure," said Daus. "Some of Vathesa's people marked me as a traitor and they came after me a couple times. If they've been in communication with other outposts, the quarian might know who I'm really representing. But it's unlikely. Vathesa and Eshedra guarded the locations and organizers of their allied outposts to the _death_. Everyone knows what they did."

They spent a few minutes weighing their options before it was decided that Daus would take the risk by announcing himself to the quarian, and the very instant the door was ajar the five remaining operatives, just out of sight, would make their move with the element of surprise as a prime weapon in their arsenal.

From cover Daus strode out, holding himself a bit tensely for his conspicuous lack of a patient to deliver as were the conditions of all his prior visits. He placed himself before the lugubrious little capsule-house, standing in plain view of the sole security camera lens, and held a finger to the panel on the small outer speaker to alert them to his presence. "Hey, um... I'm that messenger from Vathesa," he spoke into the receiver. "Do you remember me? I'm here on some private business. Can we talk?"

Eingana and Sehtor listened closely from where they stood braced against the sides of the building, just four hasty strides away from throwing themselves past the threshold with guns raised. The quiet was unnerving. As time went on Liselle began to worry that the quarian would not respond nor admit Daus, but her concerns were alleviated when they collectively heard the quarian's timorous voice crackling through the speaker.

_"Y-You,"_ he said, _"I remember you... Yes, you're the one who brought by her patients. You were one of her runners. But... But she's dead. Aria killed her. And you have no one with you now? Why are you here? What sort of business?"_

"Listen, buddy..." Daus utilized his most amiable tone of voice, trying to put the man at ease. "I'm just a messenger here. There's another... _Vathesa_ in town, let's say. Here to fill the vacuum she left behind. Now, I'm here to let you know about that. I don't know if you wanna talk about this sort of thing out here in the open, so... I figured we'd just have our chat inside." He removed two firearms from his possession, clearly presented them to the camera, and retreated several long paces back to set them down on the ground. When he returned, he showed the quarian his empty hands. "See? No trouble here, just want to talk. Fill you in on some important news."

_"...I don't know. I-I need to ask someone first."_

"Sure thing. Take your time, but don't leave me standing here for too long. Shady neighborhood you got here."

Rasma exhaled in frustration as they were forced to wait an additional five minutes or so. Liselle could hear Daus leisurely pacing about. She was impressed by how relaxed and unruffled his steps were. After relative eons elapsed, the quarian finally returned to the speaker to pass judgement on the turian.

_"Let me see your hands again. And s-step aside, so I can see the guns."_

Daus complied.

_"...A-All right. I'm going to let you in, but y-you'd better not try anything. You don't know who you're dealing with."_

The door unlocked. They all heard the quick, hissing click of the disengaging metal bolts embedded within the slab of metal, and the light roll as it retracted into the wall. Rasma did not hesitate. She made a silent gesture that sent them forward, rounding the corner of the building. They appeared behind Daus and overtook his position before the quarian even comprehended how many of them he was contending with. And then the hand of Saerirn was grasping his shoulder while the other harshly pressed the muzzle of a gun to his head, forcing him back and into a chair in the pragmatically-furnished front room whose sterility was only disrupted by the presence of colorful carpets laid on the floors and draped over couches. Saerirn's quick succession of loud orders were delivered zealously, causing Liselle to instantly revise the grumbling reticence she had once exclusively associated with the salarian.

While Saerirn and Hiral remained behind to guard the quarian, Eingana sprinted further into the house with their guns raised. Daus, having to take a few seconds to retrieve his weapons, joined them soon after they first raced down the narrow hallway. He flanked Liselle as they barged into room after room in search of prisoners, exhilaration pounding through their veins. They made no attempt to conceal their presence, aspiring to panic and intimidate those they sought.

Liselle noticed a surplus of medical equipment, freezers, and sealed storage containers littering the interior, attesting to Vathesa's claim to Daus that the owners of the house were doctors. All of their professional possessions were meticulously labelled and sorted, but none were fascinating enough to warrant a closer examination—at least, not until they had completed their current pressing objective.

Malak dove into a room at the first sight of motion. When they passed by the room he'd entered Liselle caught a glimpse of him physically forcing someone to the floor with several expletives, the stock of his assault rifle, and his free fist. The recoiling individual beneath him raised a pair of hands and pleaded, "We're just scientists, _scientists!"_ in frantic confusion and fear, obviously not realizing who they were or why they had come to brutalize them. Immediately afterward Rasma flew into another open doorway to apprehend another, but the sound of defensive gunfire zipping against her shields had Daus dashing past Liselle to render aid, albeit not before telling her, "Go, _go!_ Keep looking!"

She obeyed as they struggled against the resisting, shouting resident and sprinted further within, alone. There was only a single area left to investigate. A room at the far end of the abode, where no audible footsteps originated. No signs of fleeing occupants, no wild shuffling and stumbling of someone trying to escape or find a firearm to wield against the intruders. Liselle glanced over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of Malak forcibly dragging to the front room the one he'd downed previously—another quarian, protesting and squirming and insisting that he had absolutely nothing to do with whatever they intended to accuse him of. She returned her gaze to the path ahead of her and continued, slowly now, and peering out to her right with great caution. Another alcove filled with boxes, chilled. But nothing of immediate interest.

With some apprehension she pressed her hand against the sensor panel to the door at her left, accessing the final room. She prayed it would be empty, hoping to avoid a physical engagement she wasn't entirely sure she was ready for, if only from not knowing what sort of adversary to anticipate. When the unlocked door opened without a fuss, it revealed a dimness which forced a noticeable pause in Liselle's advancement. She had to allow her eyesight to adjust before hazarding another forward step. With her submachine gun steadily held out in front of her and fingertip resting against the trigger, Liselle groped along the wall for an old switch panel congruous with a building of this age, and when she brushed against a raised smooth surface she ran her fingers upward, causing the light level to accordingly increase. No more were the hazy silhouettes, but the true outlines and depth of simple furniture, a complicated assembly of medical equipment and monitors displaying cryptic, largely alphanumeric information...

And one individual, watching her in haunting, motionless silence. Liselle nearly dropped her gun from a sudden surge of fright.

She had been watched in that manner before. She knew that gaze, that luminosity of the eyes, the inscrutable absence of expression. Not even surprise or anger fleeted across their features. Nothing at all. Only a wordless analysis, patient and removed from all notion of danger. Liselle dared to increase the lighting again, this time revealing a gaunt lavender visage that sent a chill down her spine.

It was the patient from Sahra Igrahal's hospital. The same solitary one from that dark room, in the exact wheelchair occupied now, covered modestly with robes and blankets. A quarian, a female face. Liselle knew the moment she acquired a clearer look at her, and now deemed her observation irrefutably correct. Quarians looked _precisely_ that way without their suits, as she had seen in extranet photos preserved from a time when the race still populated their homeworld, but that was time well before her own. During Aria's life, certainly, but by the year Liselle was born the quarians had already formed the Migrant Fleet and were sailing across the starlit oceans of space, paradoxically in search of an end to their wandering, a way to return to their beloved homeworld with grace or force.

It wasn't possible. Quarians were known to fall terribly ill, oftentimes _deathly_ ill, whenever they removed their enviro-suits. Their weak immune system was no match for a station as diverse with peoples and their respective diseases as Omega. This quarian would not have lasted a single month without her suit under normal circumstances, yet still she lived, perhaps not as physically capable as her associates, but that mattered little in light of the miracle she embodied.

Liselle kept her submachine gun pointed at the quarian, though she was acutely aware of her own light trembling. "You need to come with me," she said.

"Why is that required of me?"

The voice sounded anomalous. When Liselle tried to articulate why, her mind became trapped in a recursive loop endlessly reasoning back to the explanation that it was simply _wrong._ Something in her verbal rhythm, like a grave echo of a far-off _other_ , a ghost of someone gone and present both at once, straining to be heard through the arcades of another world.

After a moment of daunted hesitation, Liselle managed to bravely croak out, "We're occupying the building until further notice, on Aria T'Loak's authority. We have questions."

The quarian examined her at great length, revealing nothing that might allude to her thought process. At any moment, Liselle feared, she might have struck out with unnatural vigor and killed her on the spot. Could her apparent disadvantage have been a ruse? Or was Liselle simply terrified of what she did not understand, so quick to ascribe supernatural qualities to the unfamiliar and different to herself? She shuddered in ignorance.

To Liselle's surprise and relief, the quarian was compliant. She laid a hand upon the touch-based control panel of her chair's arm and enabled herself to move forward, only stopping to await Liselle's further direction.

"Down the hall," she said. "Join the others in the front room."

Again she obeyed, emerging from the room and traveling down the hallway at a leisurely speed. The chair was silent, as was she. Liselle kept her gun pointed at the back of her hostage's head the entire time, admitting to herself that she was far more afraid of the quarian than she was of Liselle, and Liselle was the one with the weapon _and_ biotics. She could almost hear Aria's voice gathering over her shoulder like an injurious mist, uttering with disapproval, _"Pathetic."_

When Liselle and the quarian joined everyone in the front room, all eyes were upon her, wide and staring. Liselle's allies had apprehended three other individuals, seated on a couch while surrounded by the collaborating Sehtor and Eingana. All were quarian, and were all male. But they were quickly forgotten upon noticing who Liselle brought with her.

"Who..?" Rasma began in shock. "What the _hell_ is she?"

" _Who_ is generally the civilized interrogative pronoun when referring to a person," one of the quarians spitefully sneered at her from his seat on one of their chairs. He met the gaze of his companion in the wheelchair before answering Rasma's question. "She once went by the name of Faesa'Xeer vas Moreh. She goes by a different name now, but you can call her that if you absolutely need to call her at all."

Liselle personally found it curious that they would be denied knowledge of a current title. In her experience with those who came to Omega, it was usually the opposite situation, where their dead name was to be regarded as just so. Dead, and no longer relevant, albeit generally with the accompanying purpose of hiding from extradition.

"And just who are you?" Malak asked the audacious man. "Who are the rest of you?"

Seeing no practical way of avoiding the question without inviting harm unto their persons, he answered him. "Vil'Yelva vas Moreh, in a happier time. This is Hasin'Tirul." He nodded to the one Malak had personally seized. "And the one who mistakenly trusted you is Kaelit'Shao."

"He worked for Vathesa!" Kaelit despaired. "He brought us her patients! Why would I not trust him!?"

"I mean it as an attack on _them_. On Vathesa's turian. The despicable _traitor."_

Daus did not receive the assessment well. "Really? _I'm_ the traitor here? And just what do four quarians have to do to the Migrant Fleet to land them all on Omega, where you've obviously been for several years? Not to mention that _you_ , _Vil'Yelva vas Moreh_ , sound like you're well beyond your Pilgrimage years."

"What do _you_ know about quarian tradition?"

"Enough to know that you're not going home anytime soon."

The instant Vil'Yelva began to rise from the couch, Malak placed a firm hand on his chest and shoved him.

"You sit the _fuck_ back down or I'll put a few bullets in your knees," he growled.

"You calm down as well, Daus," Rasma advised the seething turian. "Don't commandeer this interrogation with your petty quarrels." She turned back to address the quarians. "And you... All of you are going to start explaining what sort of project you have going on here. And if you lie to us, we _will_ find out. Better yet, _Aria T'Loak_ will find out. So what are you, researchers? Developing some kind of vaccine to restore the quarian immune system?"

"No," bitterly answered Vil'Yelva. "We're... trying to cure another problem our people face. The geth."

Discontent permeated Aria's operatives. Rasma's frustration became apparent in her next question. "And just how does all this medical equipment relate to the geth? How does _she_ relate to the geth?" She gestured to the female quarian.

Silence explicated the quarians' reluctance to answer. They shifted uncomfortably in their seats and glanced about the room as if in search of an escape route, but their captors had left them with nothing to work with. The quarian called Hasin was bold enough to defy her.

"You have no right coming into our home like this, beating us and breaking our equipment, then demanding we just hand over everything we've worked for. Fuck you. Fuck all of you _bosh'tets_ , and Aria too."

Rasma made a minute gesture with her head, having Saerirn approach him with his pistol in hand. He would have struck Hasin had not the suitless quarian spoke up, quite possibly to spare him.

"I can interface with them," she said, drawing uniform attention. "With the geth. I can hear them, and speak with them."

The intensity and horror of their stares at the notion did not seem to faze her. Liselle did not know whether she had heard correctly. She did not know whether such an outrageous claim was even plausible. But Aria's encounter with the Citadel Council's Spectre, presumed dead by Aria and her administration only to see her rise up and pose a major threat anew, this time augmented with geth technology and empowered to the extent that she had given Aria one of the most challenging fights of her life, gave Liselle pause. At this point, it was monumentally difficult to draw a definite line demarcating what was impossible, from what was merely improbable. What was happening, Liselle wondered? What tremendous forces lurking in the darkest depths of the galaxy enabled these unfathomable things to occur; the geth beyond the Veil, the corruption of the life's natural procession through reanimation, the death of dozens of Omegan gangs who had securely held their territory for generations, vanished like a wisp of smoke in a gentle breeze? Life itself was falling apart.

"You," Rasma said, having turned address Vil'Yelva again. The austerity of her tone was chilling. "You will explain everything, from the beginning, _now._ Why are you on Omega?"

"I... We... Well, you see, on the Moreh we were all researchers. Except for Kaelit. He did a lot of assisting work. Errands for the team. Faesa'Xeer was in charge of the project that had us... exiled, in the end. She was so close to a breakthrough when the Fleet found out that we were using active geth processors in our lab. It's not an uncommon cause for exile. The possession of geth, that is. To have their algorithms and a window into their consensus cradled in your hands... You don't know what it feels like, to not have a world you can call home. You don't how it feels to have your very culture on the brink of collapse, to know that nothing will ever be the same again for your people. We were desperate. We thought that if we could fuse geth and organic conscience, we could spy on them. Learn about them, how they've evolved over time and what their weakness are. And we thought that maybe, after a few iterations of that technology, we might enable ourselves to influence and override the geth consensus without the risk of computing assimilation. Don't you see? We saw a possibility to control them, to push them off the homeworld! It was worth any risk. It was even worth exile. We followed Faesa'Xeer to Omega where we could access the black market and import geth parts without intervention from authorities. In us lived on a chance for redemption, if we were successful. Certainly the Fleet would welcome us back if we developed a weapon that could defeat the geth. And we _still_ carry that hope."

"So why is Faesa'Xeer as she is now?" Rasma inquired. "How does she survive without an enviro-suit and why does she claim to interface with geth? Was your project successful?"

"Na—I mean Faesa'Xeer... This project was her lifelong work. She was truly brilliant, passionate, and devoted to it. So devoted that she... she volunteered to be the recipient of our experimental geth implants. As you can imagine, this required several invasive surgeries. While we were perfectly qualified to perform them, no amount of medical training can entirely safeguard against the risk of infection once the patient is exposed to the environment. She fell ill twice, and recovered both those times, but the implant always failed to work according to our design. I regret to say it only induced seizures. So we took it out, but... the infection Faesa'Xeer contracted after the third procedure killed her. In her will she left to us only one condition to fulfill. That her body not be wasted, but used to extend her lifelong work for as long as possible. So after we remembered her, we put her body on ice to respect her wishes. For another two years we trudged along, saving up money by selling surgeries to people in need of them. We befriended Kiava Vathesa during that time, although we never technically partnered because we couldn't support her business model. We couldn't afford to provide free care. We needed the money for more geth parts. But sometimes she'd pay us to try our hand at her most disadvantaged patients, and we took those jobs, sure. Back then it used to take six months to save up enough for a single geth photoreceptor, and we didn't even need those at the time. Those things were just curio. Garbage, as far as we were concerned. No, we desperately needed _processors_. Undamaged or reparable ones, which are extremely rare and difficult to obtain. We only got our hands on one more. One more chance to get it right. And that's how Faesa'Xeer as you see her now came to be."

They resumed their unabashed habit of staring at her with incredulity.

"So, she's..." The trepidation in Liselle's voice was blatant as she gave voice to the most common thought in the room. "She's... dead." Her final word hardly broke a whisper.

"Faesa'Xeer is dead, yes," said Vil'Yelva. "But this person before you... is not precisely she. She only has a fragmented recollection of her former life, but that identity is _in conflict_ , let's say, with who she perceives herself to be now. The vast majority of the brain is intact, but an appreciable amount of neurological processes have been replaced by the geth processor we procured. She is, by all means, _remarkable_. Remarkable in that the processor aided in respiratory resuscitation, that the synthetic cardiovascular implants interiorly lined with special ionized channels were able to ward off bacterial and viral infection, that no organ transplants were rejected. It's as if the processor _knows and understands_ how to utilize and regulate the new features of the auto-immune response. She is truly a medical miracle. Our, and her own, greatest achievement. And what she's told you is perfectly true. She can interface with geth, however only platforms within a certain distance. Those local to Sahrabarik, at this time. Our present objective is finding a way to boost communications."

"There are other geth here? More, on Omega?" Rasma demanded. "How many?"

"Just two. And one of them hasn't spoken to her in a few days." Vil'Yelva turned to the former Faesa'Xeer for confirmation.

"It's dead," she bleakly concurred.

"Dead?" echoed Malak. "How can you know?"

She said nothing at first, eventually settling for a minimalistic, "I know."

Rasma brought up her omni-tool. "Aria needs to know about the geth. This is big news. Spirits... this is the news of the century."

"She already knows," Liselle offered, although she came to regret it.

As expected, Rasma canted her head in question, slowly lowered her omni-tool, and asked her with the severity and respect she would afford an equal, "All right, Liselle. What do you know?"

There was no escaping now. Tentatively she began, "Aria's fought someone like... her." She spared the quarian woman a wary glance. "Someone who used to be dead, who was brought back using geth parts. She came back even stronger than before."

"I see," said Rasma, exhibiting the notorious calm before the storm. "If that's the case, then our mission is clear. On Aria T'Loak's authority we are occupying this building until further notice. You will be extensively investigated and you will be compliant during the time we remain here. We're severing your communications and you will all be put under constant surveillance. We're getting to the bottom of this. Here and now." She ignored the volley of stammering protests from the quarians on the couch and confronted the one tranquilly seated in her wheelchair. "You. I don't care what sort of fucking abomination privileges you think you have here. When we ask you a question you will answer it to the best of your ability. Do you understand me?"

"I understand you."

"Good. Now what do we call you? Faesa'Xeer?"

"I would not prefer that," she replied, but said nothing more to correct Rasma.

Noticing Rasma's irritation flaring up, Vil'Yelva supplied the answer for her. "She calls herself... well, it's not a traditional quarian name. At least none I've ever heard before. I can't make sense of where she got it, and when she tries to explain I feel as though I only backpedal further from understanding. She calls herself Nazara."

"Why Nazara?" Rasma asked her, apparently confident in her ability to interpret the explanation more successfully than Vil'Yelva ever could. "Why that name, and what does it mean?"

"It was... the first thing they ever said to me. I heard it like an echo. Traveling for millennia, always there, and never there. So quietly it reached me, like a whisper. They see that name in the dark. Watching it wait, watching it sleep. It was too sublime to comprehend." She grew reticent for a time, placing them in suspense until she was able to conclude, "It was beautiful, and I aspire to it. Like all things should."


	32. Ghost or Machine II

Following Rasma's announcement that the abode of Nazara and her fellow quarian medical scientists would be occupied until further notice, teams Sehtor and Eingana divided amongst themselves the labor which would sustain their mission. Rasma initiated the six-way split by latching onto Vil'Yelva, who seemed to be the man in charge and therefore held the vast majority of their secrets. She would extract these secrets from him though a simple interview—either a civil or a forceful one, depending on Vil'Yelva's compliance. It mattered not to Rasma.

Most of the remaining operatives apparently already had in mind their favored duty. Malak chose to monitor and question the jittery Kaelit'Shao, while Daus took Hasin'Tirul and Saerirn volunteered to hack into and examine their electronic records. After Hiral demonstrated her disinclination toward Nazara with a quick and uneasy glance, the drell conjured up the previously nonexistent, but nevertheless vital task of standing guard in the front entryway and remaining available to run all outside errands if needed.

That left Liselle, who had not been swift enough in her choosing, with none other than Nazara.

For a time she stood there in the front room facing her charge, feeling as though the joints in her legs had solidified into concrete. She was gazing into the eyes of someone once dead, someone once vitrified in a cryonic nitrogen freezer for months on end, in a world as devoid of light, warmth, and sensation as the existential oblivion that swallowed her. And now she was back, fished from the rotting compost of lost souls and returned to consciousness, only to be corrupted by the mind of a geth. It was not quite Faesa'Xeer that Liselle stared at now. It was not quite a geth, either. Not a ghost, not a machine... but something else entirely. A synthesis of both, emerging as an altogether new life form immune to categorization and comprehension.

It would not have been outrageous if Liselle had suddenly unrooted herself and fled at that moment. Few had ever contended with the sort of cybernetic horrors that Sehtor and Eingana were facing today, and fewer had the courage to brave them. Most sensible individuals with strong self-preservation instincts would have fled, and Liselle might have been one of them. But how many of those who fled were ever remembered?

Steeling herself, Liselle gave Nazara a terse command, bidding her to return to the room in which they had first met. As before she obeyed without objection, slowly making her way down the hall as Liselle followed, watchful and cautious. During their short migration Liselle forced confidence into herself. It was imperative that she assume control over the situation, in both attitude and action. If weakness was consistently shown, she _would_ be taken advantage of.

While reciting in the privacy of her thoughts that she and her allies had the upper hand, Liselle drew up a chair to sit facing Nazara in her sparse quarters. A curious glance about their surroundings told Liselle that physical possessions did not seem to bring Nazara much, if any delight. The light level was healthy now, the door was nearly shut save for the ajar Liselle had left to communicate with her allies in the event of an emergency. She was only able to examine Nazara's countenance more closely by putting her unique condition temporarily out of mind.

Luminous eyes whose life boasted an indeterminable source. Pale and gaunt from what Liselle could only identify as malnutrition, caused by voluntary refusal to eat, or complications within her eclectic biology that the quarians had yet to fix. Smooth-skinned and unblemished except for the thin symmetrical natural lines that snaked down from the crown of her head to her temples, but Liselle could see nothing beyond due to the obscuring hood draw up over her head for warmth, presumably. However she did infer from the amount of surgeries that Nazara had undergone that she possessed nothing but a featureless skull beneath the thin cowl, though perhaps scarred in regions, or even concealing a garish external protrusion of the technology infused with her brain. Liselle decided that she was content to never know.

Tearing her eyes away, Liselle brought up her omni-tool and opened a recording application. "When I question you," she said, pressing her finger to the option that started the recording, "I will be taking record of everything we say."

Nazara conveyed acknowledgement by dipping her chin ever so slightly, and nothing more. While Liselle was still adjusting the settings and storage location of the recording, Nazara took the opportunity to ask her in her calm, ambling voice, "What shall I call you?"

Her hand stilled as she answered, "Liselle Kasantis."

"I saw you in the hospital. You and two among those you've brought with you." No warmth, no emotion, no irrefutable evidence that there was indeed a second person in the room with Liselle.

"I... I remember," said the maiden. She drew in a small breath for bravery. With her settings refined to her liking, Liselle asked her first question. "I want to know why you're confined to that chair. Is it because Faesa'Xeer's body deteriorated at all? Was it muscle atrophy?" The insensitivity of the question was irrelevant at this time. The knowledge of the Spectre returning to life at full strength twice, despite having suffered extreme injury at Aria's hands on their first encounter, had caused Liselle's attention to obsessively linger on Nazara's debilitation. Any clue or aberrancy might have led to a trail, and Liselle could not afford to be courteous if it would cost her a lead.

"No," said Nazara.

"Then why?"

"I've done this to myself."

Liselle mistakenly waited for an elaboration. After a few awkward seconds she remembered Nazara's disinclination to reveal a single word more than what was required, and was forced to press her for more information. "How did you do this to yourself?"

"It happened a few weeks ago. I damaged the musculature in my legs." Her personal investment was just as removed as it had been since the first words she had said to Liselle, as if her mental self had been displaced at a great distance and merely remarked on her body as a separate observer.

She gaped in dread. Liselle didn't pay much mind to the door opening and admitting both Hasin'Tirul and Daus, come to retrieve a piece of medical equipment from Nazara's quarters. "What? _Why?"_ she asked, horrified.

"Vil'Yelva and Hasin'Tirul say there is something neurologically wrong with me."

"Can you describe what they... what they said about it?"

Hasin, now with the modest, curved box with a set of dials and an outdated screen displaying a complex of esoteric numbers and symbols in his arms, had overheard the last bit of their exchange. He postponed his departure along with Daus to supply an answer for Nazara, evidently believing that he could explain it in more technical and informative terms. "She has major depressive disorder," he said. "And either somatoparaphrenia or body integrity identity disorder. It's been difficult to diagnose and even more difficult to treat." Upon noticing the furrowed brows and glazed-over looks of his captors, he added in description, "Nazara periodically self-mutilates. Sometimes she falls into these terrible episodes where she's overwhelmed by severe dysphoria, driving her to the point where she'll start peeling away her own skin and breaking her fingers, among other things, such as the incident that placed her in that chair."

Liselle's line of sight fell to Nazara's hands where they rested, one on each arm of her chair. Two of her bony digits were visibly misshapen and crooked from substandard healing. Given that two of the quarians were professionally trained in the medical field, Nazara must have inflicted the injuries in secret, denying them the chance to properly align and splint the bones.

Beside where she sat, Daus voiced his skepticism. "Yeah. And how exactly can a geth be depressed?"

"She's _not entirely_ geth," Hasin emphatically reminded him. "You _have_ to get that through your dense skulls. Artificial intelligence constructs have their own encyclopedia of computing errors to worry about. What we're dealing with here seems to be an organic ailment, although certain observed behaviors have shown qualities reminiscent of recursive code errors, simultaneously. The problem is infinitely harder to isolate than what we might face when the patient is exclusively organic or synthetic. Vil'Yelva can tell you more, if you absolutely must know."

The two retreated from the room with their cargo, leaving Liselle alone again with Nazara. A strange wave of pity washed over her, briefly, inspiring her to ask for confirmation, "So you're... depressed?"

"That is what I'm told."

"Do you feel depressed now?" Liselle inquired. She inwardly confessed that she did not know how such a question might be answered.

"...I cannot answer that," replied Nazara. She had hesitated to respond, as if momentarily confounded by the question and requiring a moment to process it. "I have nothing that might serve as a point of reference."

"And are you... aware of what you're doing, when you cause yourself harm, like Hasin said?"

"I am. I am aware."

"Is that why you were at Sahra Igrahal's hospital? Receiving treatment?"

"Yes. One session out of a series of grafts and therapy appointments."

Liselle glanced down at her omni-tool, checking to see if her recording was still capturing every word. "Why do you receive treatment there? We're aware that you have some sort of arrangement. We saw Kaelit'Shao speaking to Sahra Igrahal herself."

"The deal Vil'Yelva has with her, as I understand it, is benign. She's promised to provide my organic medical care; transplants, grafts, everything, in exchange for scientific documentation of my progress. She seems to be interested in improving her own medicine based on what we've learned from my experience."

Wryly, Liselle remarked on the callously pragmatic woman, "Well, that sure sounds like her." It also explained why Igrahal had concealed Nazara from Aria. Not out of deliberate malice or nefarious intentions, but from protecting medical secrets to secure her advantage over competitors. "How is the treatment going?"

"She assures me that I will regain use of my legs in less than a month."

Passing through the eye of her imagination, Liselle pictured a wraithlike vertical figure sulking in the darkness. An upright beam of bones, skin, and metal striding without destination through the cold rooms of the home, haunting them on silent steps. Living, dying, and being born anew within the same casket.

Liselle decided it an opportune moment to address her near-emaciation. "Do you eat enough, day to day?"

"Nutrition is obtained intravenously. I'm obligated to consume what is required to persist."

"And your condition... the recent one, with your legs. Do you normally take any painkillers after surgery?"

"They are not required," said Nazara. "My pain is voluntary. It is one of the centers that the geth implant regulates."

"That aside, has Sahra Igrahal ever prescribed you painkillers anyway?"

"Yes."

"Why would you take them from her if pain is 'voluntary'?" Liselle asked, puzzled.

"Sometimes I prefer to feel it."

"The pain?" Liselle again requested clarification. "You want to feel the pain? Still—why accept the painkiller if it just makes the pain go away right after you take it? There's no point."

A moment was taken by Nazara to formulate her answer in vague, pithy words. "The process can be comforting. Grounding."

Liselle blinked at her, still confused and unable to grasp a rational motive behind her actions. Her discomfort increased until she halted its growth by dismissing Nazara's bizarre explanation as a product of her mental state. "All right," she said with a weary sigh on her voice, "we should move on. Do you know who Telycialux Daus is? The turian who came in here a few minutes ago with Hasin'Tirul?"

"I know very little, other than that he was assumed to be our ally."

The asari nodded. "He brought you several patients from Vathesa's outpost. Do you remember any of those patients? Do you know what happened to them?"

"Vil'Yelva forbade me from interacting with them," said Nazara. "He said I would frighten and panic them. And I do not know what became of any of them. Can I ask you a personal question?"

Caught off guard, Liselle resorted to issuing a blank stare in substitute of a response. Although she eventually lifted her chin and said to her, "Sure."

"Have you ever felt like a prisoner in your own home?"

As before, Liselle failed to give a punctual answer. Her initial compulsion was to nod, but she didn't.

"It is the life I live now," said Nazara. "Creating and perpetuating something that does not wish to live is unnatural. It opposes the fundamental principles of life itself. Faesa'Xeer was aware of this. She knew that evolution was not gentle. The others were perhaps fit to survive, while am I but a miscarriage, or born with grave, terminal defect... Not all things must succeed in order for life to progress, Liselle Kasantis."

Liselle scrutinized her with caution, not having expected Nazara to suddenly erupt with evidence that there truly was an organic mind behind the enigmatic albedo of her eyes. There still existed remnants of Faesa'Xeer, just as Vil'Yelva had claimed. Maybe, thought Liselle, Faesa'Xeer was the one wishing to speak with her now, and not the foreboding amalgamation called Nazara.

"It was only a matter of time before Aria came here. She only needs to know that there is someone on her station with a geth in their head, watching the dead die again," Nazara continued. "That's all the reason she needs to investigate. It's not unwarranted."

"The dead... die again?" Liselle repeated, grimacing at her morbid statements. She searched in vain for a prophetic wisdom in Nazara, a hint that professed knowledge of something above and beyond them all, but it wasn't there. There was nothing present except a morose, defeated creature who detested its own existence, or existence itself.

"When I came here, when I awoke as what I am, I recall being immediately submerged in the memory of what came before Sahrabarik. The sleep after being captured by the few trophy hunters who manage to survive their work. The comforting whispers of nullity that inspired me to choose this name. And then, many months later, nothing but horror gripping the geth of Sahrabarik. Nothing but the deepest despair."

"What did they tell you?" Liselle asked her. "Where are they? What have they seen?"

Nazara subjected herself to a ghastly silence before recounting what had been said. "The one who died," she said, "was in extreme agony. Whenever it spoke to me, I felt nothing but pain. It possessed memories of blind, driven instinct. A short flicker of life before darkness. Then later, fire; black curdling carbon, and a nightmarish rest. Hatred upon awakening again, and a weightless, light-filled power of the likes few have ever seen. And then it died for the final time, just days ago."

_Dar'nerah... then the Spectre_ , Liselle thought. "What about the other geth? The one that's still alive?"

"Icons of greed, wrath," promptly answered Nazara. "The faces of dark-clad mercenaries, holograms of powerful people from distant worlds. Weapons, so many weapons. A tray of spices, brown-red and shredded thinly. It does not speak. It only sees."

Liselle made annotations to accompany her recording, briskly typing in her suspicion that Aria had killed the first geth, who had resided in the Spectre's corpse, and that the second was either incapable or unwilling to communicate through access of any speech centers.

At that time, Daus and Hasin'Tirul returned to the room, aiming to place the piece of equipment back in its rightful shelf. Before they departed, Hasin paused to look at Liselle, who was given the accurate sense that she was being watched. She lifted her eyes to meet the faint twin lights behind the quarian's mask, questioning his stare.

"She spoke to you, didn't she?" he asked. "I mean, with more than those short bleak statements. I heard her talking. Longer sentences, details, descriptions. She does that sometimes. We learn the most about her, and the other geth, whenever she does. I only wish we could convince her to do it more often. And... and you... you're asari. You can do that mind trick, can't you? Go into another person's head, see what it's like to be them?"

Liselle eyed him warily. "Yes... but I'm not sure I'll like where you're headed with that thought."

"Well... maybe you could find out what's wrong with her!" Hasin exclaimed. "We could identify the computing error based on personal observation, maybe conduct some concurrent magnetic resonance imaging or—"

"We're not here to participate in your fucked-up experiments," Daus harshly objected. When Hasin had taken a step toward Liselle, the turian had taken a step between them. "Instead we ought to burn the whole place down before we leave. No one would complain once they found out what you've done here." He gripped the quarian's shoulder and gave him a shove toward the door.

After casting one more glance back at Liselle, Hasin reluctantly proceeded with Daus trailing closely behind, watching him and letting no motion escape his notice.

Daus was behaving strangely, Liselle thought. She was so accustomed to his cool, collected disposition that only ever fractured in private, and even then he hadn't been overtly distraught. For him to have been so hostile now was troubling. He was deeply, profoundly disturbed—so much that Liselle began to wonder if her current degree of worry, as high as it was, might have been too meager to suit the circumstance. Perhaps Daus was more aware than any of them, of just how dire the situation was.

"Why do you follow Aria?"

Liselle turned her head at the abrupt, mildly intrusive question, facing her as an outlandish surge of rage grew from deep inside her chest. "Because Aria's the best person for Omega," she firmly stated. "No other can compare."

"How can you know that?"

"I don't think anyone can _know_ something like that. But that doesn't mean I can't have a favored side in this."

"How can you soundly choose a favored side if you don't know anything about the opposition?"

"So what do _you_ know about them?" asked Liselle, her anger flaring up so hotly that it nearly scared herself. "You know we're onto you. You can't hide anymore. You know this is _happening,_ how we're figuring out that you've probably been behind everything that's happened recently."

"And what will you do if we are?"

An indignant blush erupted along Liselle's cheeks as she glared.

"Progress cannot be made in the absence of change."

"So what do you hope for?" Liselle demanded, voice dropping into a low rumble of coldness. "You hope that Aria dies and someone else takes over?"

"Aria claims to represent Omega, to _be_ Omega," said Nazara. "But it's not true. Omega is the exiled, the rejected, the disenfranchised. Aria doesn't embody Omega in any manner beyond that she consumes it. I've watched her. I have access to extranet information. Aria's longevity is the worst thing that can happen to this station. She is even worse than what your enemy has been doing to the geth."

" _Aria_ doesn't randomly murder people who haven't done anything to her!" Liselle sneered. She pushed herself up from her chair, now standing at superior height. "Aria doesn't conduct horrific experiments like yours! Do you have any idea what sort of things our enemy has done? Mutilating people, leaving them floating in gutters—! They recently tried to hang one of Aria's dancers, and what had she ever done wrong besides her job? Besides just trying to make some money and live comfortably? Nothing! Do you know what _I've_ gone through because of all you sick fucks?! Do you!?"

Nazara only stared, neither contrite nor combative. Not once did her tone fluctuate with the peaks and troughs of emotion when she replied. "I do not know your troubles," she said. "But you are not the only one with them. Violence is not solely dealt by the barrel of a gun. Poverty, illness, starvation... these are also acts of violence."

"You sound like Vathesa," muttered Liselle.

"Omega should mourn her passing. Her actions were admirable. Do you disagree?"

"Why do you care?" Liselle's confidence in her own convictions was curling back in on itself, retreating into an inflexible fortress where Nazara was less able to challenge them. She knew who she was. She'd known all along, and questioned it until the heat and fervor of interrogative chaos crystallized a singular, unyielding fact: she was a daughter of Omega, and what that identity consisted of was an unstoppable drive to survive, achieve, and cling tightly to the allies who would infallibly support her against the intrinsic wrath of the station. There was no other person within Liselle. She owed no more to no one. As was the way of the Terminus Systems, a prolonged glimpse into primordial turmoil. "Why does any of this matter you," Liselle continued, as bright tears of distress gleamed in her eyes, "if you just want to die?" Such a desire was incoherent to this world.

"Because I am still part of this place," said Nazara. "And you are too."

Though she bitterly held back her tears, Liselle could not overpower the quiver in her voice. "T-They killed a Spectre—they're gonna start a war like that... a-and they tried killing Anthya... they want to kill Aria..."

"Justice is not always kind, Liselle Kasantis. But it is always utilitarian."

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

After successfully checking into the hotel room the councilor had procured with executive ease, Aria had insouciantly evaded the patrols and returned to Tevos's apartment with a small bag of edibles and potables tucked under an arm, purchased at the expense of more than just credits. While Aria had been a long-time lover of the limelight; generously faithful, tender, and attentive to its demands, she reviled the invasive stares of the Presidium elite. They had no awe, no perspective, no notion of deference when witness to the largest source of criminal power in the Terminus Systems. Their stares were better suited to regard the form of an exotic _zoo_ _animal_ , not the unmatched brilliance of Aria T'Loak. She despised the bureaucratic culture of the Citadel, where the local vernacular was littered with legal jargon and where no one ever spent a day's worth of true hard work in amassing their fortunes. Certainly Aria enjoyed lazing around on her mountain of riches, but that was a luxury she now indulged in as a result of years and years of painstaking labor.

So strange was it to have liked Tevos—the embodiment of all the Citadelian things Aria hated. She was the complete package in a single person, a veteran politician with litigious eloquence, her fortunes inherited through random privilege of birth, and eyes that professed her own prestige and dignity instead of deference whenever looking upon Aria. And Aria _liked_ her. Liked her, perhaps, for her usefulness. And _liked_ her, perhaps, for satisfying an interpersonal desire Aria never previously thought existed within her. It was not unlike a disease, Aria thought, in the patterns it created upon spreading unchecked.

Once again solitary within Tevos's home, Aria ate her costly, premium bounty of products from a Presidium market while remotely tending to her administrative duties. She replied to her messages, gave orders wherever necessary, and evaluated her equity and liquid assets alike. After her affairs were settled Aria checked the time, made a mental note to herself that Tevos would return in approximately two hours, and preoccupied herself by leaving the kitchen island to venture into the councilor's private possessions.

But Aria had already gone through most of the books in Tevos's study (the majority comprising a dichotomy between too dry and too frivolous for her tastes), her jewelry, and her wardrobe. Tonight she examined her drawers, briskly opening each without guilt or regret, first revealing a selection of casual wear which she rifled through, leaving shallow wrinkles behind in the perfectly organized, squarely-folded tops and bottoms. Then she found a drawer filled with undergarments, and lingered there far longer than she had at any previous drawer.

The articles forming the top layer were simple and a tad modest, though none that Aria saw had completely sacrificed style for prudence. Just like Tevos, Aria thought. Always claiming to hold minimalism and practicality in highest regard, yet Aria had always identified a certain penchant for stylish superfluity in everything she owned. Just enough elegance to outshine what might've been deemed mundane.

She continued rifling through the lingerie drawer, never caring if she left behind evidence of her intrusion. On the contrary, Aria rather liked the possibility of Tevos realizing the next morning that Aria had her hands all over her underthings. Just as she began enjoying the idea, Aria explored past a short stack of identical white garments to reveal beneath them a covert selection of sleek, silky, and unnecessarily _racy_ items. Aria lifted the one that most appealed to her tastes—black, with low seams designed to suggestively display the subtly pronounced ridges of one's pelvis, and went on to deliciously narrow between the legs—and turned it over in her hands multiple times in approval. So the councilor did _entertain_ on occasion, Aria mused. Or, at least she had intentions to.

Aria imagined how Tevos might look while wearing nothing but the article she held now, and decided that she liked the picture no small amount. She thought of hooking her thumbs into the hems and letting her fingers glide back against the only flesh left concealed, all of it tender and divinely responsive. And when she'd have her, inevitably, Aria toyed with the thought of never needing to remove them completely, but merely pushing aside the stretch that ran between her thighs. And oh—would Aria _have her,_ all while admiring it like a silky black frame for a piece of artistic expression. Neither diminished by the presence of the other, but only made more appealing when together.

When Aria returned the racy thing to the drawer, she purposely left it in plain visible sight, where it would be seen the very instant Tevos next opened her drawer. Someday she'd wear it for her. Sooner than someday, Aria decided.

Unfortunate for Aria, she discovered that most of Tevos's important belongings—records, private terminals, tablets—were so thoroughly locked up by sophisticated encryption programs that Aria ceased fiddling with the locks after just a minute of testing their apparent parameters, mindful of the high likelihood that too many consecutive failed password entries would trip an alarm and alert special C-Sec services. She abandoned her efforts to pour herself a tall drink, deliberately selecting one of Tevos's finest Thessian brandies to sample. With her drink in hand Aria returned to her valise and briefly searched through her luggage until she retrieved a holodisk she'd been meaning to review.

After descending the tight volute staircase to the lower level, Aria sauntered into the open area and settled down on the sofas in witness to the nighttime vista of the Presidium beyond the one-way windows, now only visible through the thin slits the blinds allowed. Listlessly, Aria slipped her holodisk into the table-mounted player, reclined into the seat for optimal comfort with her drink in hand, and began scanning the text that lit her features and the furniture around her with an icy blue glow.

_Aria asked me if I would share my personal journals with her_ , she read. _She's looking for more information on Bothan, and thinks it's possible that I've recorded something useful about him, due to our friendship. So I've made a holodisk for her. Transcribed everything and imported it from my omni-tool, so it'd be in a more convenient format. This should be my last entry for a while, at least until I've returned to work. And Aria, I know you're probably reading this right now. I hope you find something useful, I really do. You've been through a lot and I would like nothing more than to support and help you in any way you need. I also want to let you know that I've recorded many, many personal things in here, as you've probably suspected. A lot of it is about you. But I don't mind if you read it. You can read all of it, if you want. Even the raunchy bits. You trust me with so many things, and given your position it's only appropriate that I trust you with even more. Mind, body, and soul. I love you so much. I hope to see you again soon. You've been on my mind all the time..._

With a laconic flick of her wrist Aria flipped back multiple digital pages, concentrating on the dates flitting by in the air as she searched for the approximate week during which Bothan Korgess had been hired as a bartender.

_It's been almost three years now, but my heart still races whenever Aria calls me into her lounge and tells me to join her in the penthouse in a few hours. I'm in a daze all day long, wondering what negligee I should wear, wondering what she'll want to do once we're alone. Today in the dressing room Irsmeni asked why I was in such a good mood, and although I didn't say why, she knew. Then she said something horrible to me, something completely uncalled for. Irsmeni said that all Aria's doing is masturbating with my body. But that's not true. That's not true. I think there's something special between us. Maybe not love, not how I'd like it, but Aria's always been kind and generous to me. She always cares to know if I'm comfortable with what we're doing, and she always cares to know if I'm enjoying it. On rare occasion when I'm not, she'll fix it, always. There's only one pain she can't spare me, and I don't blame her in the slightest for not being able to: she'll never mend the ache in my heart. She'll never love me like I love her, utterly and completely. But I'd still do anything for her, anything at all. Kill for her, lie for her, die for her, all without hesitation. I don't think I'll ever have a lover like Aria again. Someone who I revere and adore and dote on so intensely, someone who fills me with that much passion and pleasure. I honestly don't know what I'd do without her._

Abruptly, Aria waved a hand to collapse the text back into the projector, finding herself without the stomach or mood for reading such things. She downed the rest of her drink in a bold swallow and felt the pleasant burn creep down the core of her chest before curtly folding one leg over her other knee in discontent. With a frown upon her lips, Aria reached back into the side compartment of her belt, careless of the current time and Tevos's preference, and retrieved a cigarette. She placed it between her lips and swiftly lit the end with practiced ease. The first draw was soothing and savory, flooding her lungs with the incense of cured batarian herbs which brought with them a familiar cloud of relaxation. And then, before her second taste the sound of a closing door reached Aria's notice. The councilor was home.

For a moment Aria considered not reacting in the slightest, but that moment soon passed when her initial obstinacy morphed into an acrid hiss of _"Shit."_ After ejecting the holodisk and pocketing it, Aria searched about herself for a place to extinguish her cigarette. In the end she resorted to smashing the lit end into the bottom of her empty glass, then rose from the sofa with it in hand, just in time to see Tevos appear at the base of the staircase with an inquiring expression.

"I was wondering where you'd gone," said Tevos. "Why are you down here?"

"You're back a bit early," Aria flatly remarked.

A concurring sigh of exasperation departed the councilor. "Yes, because I couldn't take it anymore. Today was _dreadful_. I didn't consider just how difficult it would be to bid Estulius a good morning with a smile, and to stand next to him throughout the petitions without vituperating him once..." Tevos began leisurely making her way toward Aria, although her trip was considerably lengthened by her pausing to view the wall-mounted décor. She recounted more about her atrocious day at work. "By the way, the immigration measure passed. It's been at least a decade since I last witnessed the Council Chambers consumed by such an uproar. It was _awful_. C-Sec had to intervene. Have you been following the news? There's already been four incidents of violence connected to the measure's passage." She resigned herself to a contrite, deeply contemplative silence before expounding. "Do you ever find yourself suddenly overcome by a strange and jarring feeling, as if you've been thrust back into the world after years spent watching from the outside? I felt that today. My position demands that I take a remote perspective when making large-scale decisions, but that inherently reduces arbitration of public policy to little more than an armchair activity. Sitting in comfort, reading footnotes, speculating, analyzing charts and statistical trends... Disregarding the fact that they all have unique combinations of families, jobs, hobbies... All the people I serve, reduced to numbers. Motes of data."

Aria said nothing, merely observing her in steady stillness.

"Things will improve," Tevos quietly consoled herself, then leapt to another topic to put the previous one out of mind. "Although I'm dreading tomorrow, when I'll meet the new Khar'shan ambassador after your appointment. I wonder what he'll have to say about it. Today I also put out an order to my agents to establish contact with Medora. We should hear back within a day or two. And after that item of business was tended to, Irissa barged into my office to complain about your presence on the Citadel and accuse me of standing up Falteus on our 'date'. I haven't the slightest inkling as to where she got that idea, since Falteus isn't the type to gossip or hyperbolize. Irissa herself probably exaggerated what was probably a harmless, passing remark. I don't know why she insists on being so involved with my dating life. It isn't as though I'm withering away with age." Seeing the faint smirk appear on Aria's lips, Tevos berated her before she even had the chance to earn that penalty. "Not a word."

By now Tevos was within an arm's length. When she traversed that distance Aria remained inexplicably stiff, even when Tevos draped her arms about her waist, fondly rubbed her back through her shirt, and leaned in to kiss her. Aria turned away just enough to elude her.

"Is... something wrong?" Tevos looked at her in bemusement. Aria was feigning a peculiar nonchalant innocence, which was in noticeable discordance with her aversion. She had never before expressed any repulsion toward being kissed; Tevos was rather delighted by the opposite generally being true. Still puzzled and somewhat amused by her odd behavior, Tevos said to her, "I devote hours of work to items of business relevant to your interests _while_ inundated by my own obligations, and _while_ enduring the torment of knowing that Estulius was only a few minutes away from my office the entire time, and you won't allow me this after the day I've been through?"

Aria's expression was indiscernible. "Suit yourself."

She did. Allowing her hands to slide upward to where one rested at Aria's shoulder, and the other cradled her jaw, Tevos leaned in again and successfully kissed her, having craved that pleasure throughout much of the day, even well into the afternoon as she had feared. But not a second passed before she found what was amiss. She drew away the instant she tasted it, coming away from Aria bearing a sharp aspect of disapproval in her eyes. Looking downward, she spotted the glass still clutched in Aria's hand. She took it from her. When Tevos peered into it she found exactly what Aria had attempted to hide from her, and exhaled shortly in disdain. "I don't burden you with many rules, Aria," she said. "Is it so hard to respect those few things I ask of you?"

Aria seemed to slyly ponder her answer until she had found a good one. "You knew my nature, Councilor. You knew what you were signing up for."

Tevos eyed her vapidly for several seconds, rhythmically tapping one fingernail against the side of Aria's glass as she held it, producing a recurrent pattern of tiny rings.

When she returned to the stairs, Tevos was not much concerned about if or when Aria might follow her up, and did not encounter her again until Tevos was in her bedroom, having already changed into her nightwear and retreated to lounging in bed out of the profound desire to spend the rest of her night in peace. She closed her eyes and relaxed, meditating on nothing but the luxury her bed provided, sending away those merciless memories of her office chair, the relentless assault on her vision by hours spent staring at hologram light, and the podium at which she jointly conducted petitions with the other councilors. Aria appeared in her doorway, crossing one leg in front of the other while leaning against the open frame, and was unbeknownst to Tevos until she spoke.

"Retiring for the night already?"

"That would appear to be the case," Tevos replied from where she lay, determined to remain as still as possible.

"Wake up tomorrow, do the same thing all over again?"

Tevos turned to face her, tacitly inquiring why she would knowingly ruin her night with such a cruel prediction. In spiteful defense, she reminded Aria, "And you'll be with me."

"For a time," Aria conceded that much. "How long should the paperwork take?"

"Only a half hour, if you skim the terms."

She nodded once. "So, nothing else planned for tonight?"

"Were you expecting something in particular?" With Aria still recuperating from her fight with Neora, and with Tevos in no mood to leave her bed for anything—save for a legitimate emergency—until the next morning, their options were exceptionally limited.

Aria evasively shrugged, then appeared even more self-assured than usual. "Maybe we should go out to dinner. See a show."

Tevos managed a small breath of amusement. "You know we could never do that," she said, with a bit more melancholy than she meant to. She hadn't needed to say anything at all. The limits of their relationship were obvious, known implicitly since the night they first shared the councilor's bed. Generally, the secrecy hadn't bothered Tevos. She had Aria to talk to, to touch, to meld with, and that sufficed. Those privileges met and surpassed her expectations. Meanwhile, the inability to leave her home with Aria visibly in tow hadn't brought her any notable dismay in the past, if only because she was never at any point under the delusion that it was plausible. But actually giving voice to the limitation and validating it as a tangible truth, coupled with the pain of letting the foul word _never_ touch her lips, had brought to her heart an unexpected twinge of sadness.

"I got the ball rolling with the Eclipse today," Aria informed Tevos, saving her from introspection.

"Did you?"

"Mm-hmm. We'll have Lorhan soon." Aria peeled away from the doorframe, taking several strides into the room before sitting at the edge of the bed. She turned herself at the waist to better face the councilor. "Do you remember Wasea? The first lieutenant of the Gysia Division?"

"I believe so," Tevos answered. Her hand had left the sheets, drifting toward Aria to lightly fondle the hem of her shirt. It soon delved beneath, leisurely stroking her skin without effort of thought. "You wanted her on your administration at one point."

"I did. And I'm glad she refused. She's far more useful to me now with the Eclipse. If everything plays out according to my plan, she'll mix in several of my operatives with the Eclipse mercs she and Captain Asana will bring with them when they deal with Lorhan. That'll give me some insurance with the Eclipse. I'll know what's been said, whether they legitimately attempted to capture Lorhan or pretended to let him go... I'll know precisely where they stand in the aftermath."

"And why exactly," Tevos began to ask, "is Wasea being so cooperative?"

Aria smiled with her lips and eyes in the manner Tevos had learned to corroborate with a plot of wicked cunning being in existence. One better left to mystery, indefinitely.

"I made it worth her while," was all Aria said.

It was a severe understatement.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Two hours into their interviews and investigations, Hiral visited each captor-captive pair and announced that she was going into a nearby market for provisions, and asked what each person desired. In addition to something to eat, Liselle requested eezo supplements after recalling that she hadn't taken any in four days. Hiral, being unfamiliar with the product, had Liselle show her an example on the extranet, followed by advice about what grocers and kiosks tended to stock them, usually those who regularly imported from Thessia. They had offered to feed the quarians as well, but the inhabitants of the building had staunchly declined in an act of civil disobedience against their aggressors. They claimed to have plenty of food for themselves, and did not need the belittling pity of Aria's well-supplied thugs.

There came a time when they each took a turn watching two of the quarians so that Rasma was privately able to update her allies on an important item of news from Aria. When it was Liselle's turn, she and Rasma retreated into a storage room. Apparently, within the last hour Aria had put out a highly encrypted notice to all her special investigative teams, ordering all units and operatives not currently engaged to report to a specified Eclipse outpost and make contact with First Lieutenant Wasea, who would brief them on their new assignment early the next day. Drialus Lorhan was their ultimate target, and Aria wanted to mingle her own forces with the Eclipse's for extra security.

Rasma had felt it her responsibility to inform the members of Sehtor and Eingana, despite the fact that they would not be able to participate. Their present involvement might have been of equal or even _greater_ importance to the capture of Aria's long-time business competitor. Liselle appreciated the information, but secretly wondered why Wasea had deigned to cooperate with Aria now in spite of everything she had previously told Liselle—how she tired of being used by Aria and swept up into performing her dirty work, and how she vowed to never succumb to her tempting propositions again.

It hadn't even been a month since she made that promise.

When Hiral returned, she dispensed the meals and returned to her post at the front of the building, leaving her allies to their tasks. Liselle eagerly ate. She broke a supplement capsule into her drink before downing almost half of it at once, then peeled back the packaging of the hot street food Hiral had brought to take two immodest bites. With a thumb she pushed an excess morsel between her lips and chewed quite contentedly, until she remembered Nazara sitting directly across from her, watching every motion of her jaw in a silence of such integrity that it could only be exerted by a being whose life signs were virtually undetectable. Liselle froze, only permitting herself to discreetly swallow when staring back with a scornful gaze. So quickly had her initial fear of Nazara transmuted into pity, and then into resentment.

Nazara seemed unperturbed and devoid of the envy that would have typically appeared on the face of one who had not eaten in several hours. Even her associates had been escorted into their kitchen for a meal, but traditional consumption had no appeal to Nazara, and she had refused to join them. Maybe, thought Liselle, Nazara's dislike for solid food was more than idiosyncratic. Maybe it was an extension of her lack of will to persist. Abruptly, she lost her appetite.

Liselle stood up with her meal items in hand, then told Nazara, "Follow me."

"Where?"

"To the kitchen. With the others."

"Why would we go there?"

"Because I said so," she bitterly explained.

As before, Nazara obeyed her. When they arrived, they were spared a wary glance from all in the room. Even Liselle was regarded abnormally by her own allies, as if Nazara's strangeness were somehow contagious, and it had infected their asari companion, now doomed to transform into something as equally disturbing. Meanwhile, the quarians were huddled around a table for themselves, carefully eating their dextro-safe mash through special induction ports as to not expose themselves to the outside environment. They regarded Nazara, but said nothing to her in the way of a greeting or invitation.

"Can she eat?" Liselle asked them.

They all uniformly paused at the question. Vil'Yelva spoke for the group. "What do you mean? Of course she can. She just chooses not to, despite being the only quarian in the galaxy who can without filters and ports." His words carried an undercurrent of disdain.

"What about the other geth? Who else on Omega could've replicated the results of your experiments? Is Sahra Igrahal the only one with your records? Was it her?"

"I—can't this wait? I thought we were being allowed a break."

"Liselle," Rasma said to her. "Lay off for a bit. We're making progress."

She ignored her. Liselle was possessed by an overwhelming desire to confront the issues, to solve their problems once and for all before beings like Nazara encroached further upon them. Nazara felt like an omen of something dismal perched on the horizon, and time before that advent was swiftly running out. It was a future filled with distortions of life that desired to abort their own existences on the premise of being entrenched in a valley with no cultural or genetic identity. Nazara was the end of introspection. She was the death of the self and the rise of the hive-collective, not only exclusive to the geth, but for all life as well. Liselle had no notion of such unfathomable things, and they scared her as the unknown blackness of space would if it had suddenly engulfed her one day.

"Did someone bring an asari here?" she asked. "Did you put an implant in her?"

Vil'Yelva conceded nothing. Nearby, Hasin'Tirul dropped his peculiar utensils and Kaelit'Shao had begun to violently fidget.

_"Liselle,"_ Rasma said, more rigidly now, cautioning her. "I've already asked Vil'Yelva that. He claims that no one ever brought by an asari, and that they've never been able to afford additional geth parts other than the ones they used on Nazara. Saerirn's still checking files to confirm it."

"Why is she asking us this?" Vil'Yelva demanded. He turned to Nazara accusatorially. "Did you insinuate anything untrue?"

"I insinuated the contrary."

_"Keelah!"_ Kaelit suddenly exclaimed, descending into panic. "The asari knows about—!"

Hasin'Tirul rose to grip him, practically strangling him into silence as he hissed, _"The fuck is wrong with you, you stupid bosh'tet!?"_

Their immediate surroundings erupted into action. Vil'Yelva rushed over to pry his colleagues apart, while Daus and Malak drew their arms and threateningly took aim. They loudly commanded for them to stop, amid spilt foods and strewn table items. At last the quarians disengaged and raised their arms in surrender.

_"What_ does she know!?" Daus shouted at Kaelit. He approached and manually, aggressively restrained him. Kaelit gave no fight, and resorted to cowering in whimpering fear instead. "What haven't you been telling us?" He glanced over at Liselle. "Liselle? What do you know?"

Unsure herself, Liselle mutely shook her head, still wide-eyed from witnessing the struggle.

Daus twisted Kaelit's arm, eliciting a sharp cry. "What haven't you been telling us?"

"For Spirits' sake, Daus!" Rasma said. "What the hell is wrong with you? You think they're going to be of use to us if you rip their suits open?"

"That's why he's going to talk," said Daus. "Kaelit knows he's expendable. What's he to their research team? Their errand-boy? He doesn't know the science, the details. But he _does_ know who and what goes in and out of here, just like the rest of them. How about that, Kaelit? You want to tell me what you're hiding now?"

"Please! _P-Please!_ Don't hurt me! He paid us good money, he contributed to our r-research!"

"Who did!?"

"H-He had heard about the surgeries we performed and came across our black market ads where we expressed interest in geth parts! We showed Lorhan our work on Nazara and he was very impressed—"

"So that's who you've dealt with? Lorhan?"

"Y-Yes— _Ah—!"_ Kaelit vocalized his pain with another wretched cry. "H-He wanted a new prosthetic, using some deactivated geth parts! He liked the look of the metal geth carapace and wanted s-something exotic! His money was good and we took that job and s-some others! Don't you understand!? He financed our research! W-We were practically bankrupt after Nazara!"

"What _other_ jobs?!"

"I...I..."

From his arsenal Daus drew a serrated turian combat knife, holding it poised over the back of Kaelit'Shao's enviro-suit. "I'll do it, pal. I'm a man without much to lose."

"A batarian and an asari! That's it, _that's it!"_

_"Lorhan_ commissioned that?"

"Yes!"

"Why? What was he planning?"

"I don't know! I don't know!" Kaelit was lost to a flurry of panic.

"Let Kaelit go!" Vil'Yelva interjected. "He doesn't know anything more! But I do."

Daus harshly released Kaelit, shoving him in the direction of the other quarians before pointing his knife at Vil'Yelva. "All right. I'll bite. Tell me what you did."

"He claimed that he wanted us to bring back associates of his who had recently expired. He only said that they possessed invaluable intelligence that he could not afford to lose. Some kind of corporate secrets, he said. He paid us handsomely, supplied the processors, and promised to periodically ship us free geth parts if we brought them back. I tried warning him that it was... it was a science not suited for everyday life, that we were developing it in response to a crisis: the geth. We're doing this in the name of quarian survival, while Drialus Lorhan was concerned with his business... I told him he'd probably have to put them down when he was finished securing his information. Nazara _has_ an ultimate purpose. Faesa'Xeer _had_ a goal that went beyond her own life and into the next, so to speak. But the ones Lorhan wanted... they would be a nightmare to keep alive. Whenever we released a patient to him we kept it in a sort of hibernation, until he wanted it activated. I sent him a manual based on our research, about how to switch on and off different components of the processor. A bit of programming, essentially, so he could keep them catatonic or half-aware or whatever he required."

"You _taught_ him how to _program_ them!?" Rasma was beside herself. "Do you have any idea what you've done? Do you have any idea what sort of horrors you've just unleashed on Aria's syndicate, and Omega as a whole!?"

"We didn't know he'd use them against Aria's syndicate, he misled us! When we heard about the dead batarian man walking we thought it was some sort of revenge joke played by one of the gangs or pirate groups. You know how sick and twisted they can be! We had no idea he was our man! When we worked on him he still had eyes!"

"And who gave you the asari?"

"Vathesa did. She told us she was representing Drialus Lorhan and let us know that he wanted another one. The messenger she sent—some krogan called Jirlok—paid us _ten thousand_ credits up front and said that Lorhan would pay us the other half of it once we finished."

"That was the Spectre!" said Liselle. "The asari was the Spectre!"

"She... she was a Council _Spectre?"_ Vil'Yelva asked. The fact seemed to be news to him; news that was received with shock and fear of the consequences for making an enemy of a galactic superpower. "Are you... Are you sure?"

"Positive. Aria fought her twice."

_"Keelah,"_ Kaelit despaired. He was suddenly barren of all strength, having to slump down in his chair where he brought his hands up and concealed his mask with them. "What have we done...? Keelah... we're all going to die. We're all going to die... They're going to send their people to kill us, Vil'Yelva! We're never going to see the Migrant Fleet again—!"

"Stop wailing!" he snapped at him. "And pull yourself together! No one's being sent after us. We weren't the ones who killed their Spectre! Vathesa seems to be responsible for that. Besides, we have Aria T'Loak to worry about right now. She thinks we've deliberately antagonized her and we have to prove that isn't the case." He turned to Rasma, desperate for some reassurance. "When you came here, we thought you had come to take Nazara away. We thought Aria had heard that we possessed some sort of new weapon, which Nazara in a sense _is_. Maybe you'd come to steal our technology, our secrets, for your own use. Everything we've worked for. We're not interested in the affairs of warlords, turian. We're not here to fight in your wars. We're just trying to fight our own."

"Well you're damn well involved in our wars now," Rasma told him. Seeing hopelessness evolve in his body language, the way his shoulders fell as if sapped of energy, she added what little consolation she could possibly offer at this point, "You're working for Lorhan, whose recently become an avowed enemy of Aria's. She's going to try to capture him soon, interrogate him, probably kill him. This boat you're in right now is sinking, and it's up to you to choose whether you want to jump ship. If you tell us everything you know about Drialus Lorhan, Aria will recognize that. And who knows—if she likes what you've contributed, she might even find you worthy of helping."

"That's... that's _possible?_ Even knowing that we're the ones who created what tried to kill her?"

"I won't guarantee anything, but yes. It's possible."

Rasma turned to the loose congregation her allies had formed, all alert and overwhelmed. From them she isolated Liselle, requested a private word with her, and led her into the solitude of the storage room they had retreated into earlier. Though she seemed to tower over her asari companion, Rasma no longer looked down upon her in any manner save for the physical sense. Now, to Liselle's surprise, she almost regarded her with dependance.

"Liselle," she said. "We need to get you into First Lieutenant Wasea's ranks. We need someone from our units in there, someone who knows what's going on with Nazara and the other geth. Can you handle it?"

She nodded without hesitation.

"Good. I want you to bring Daus with you. He's an absolute liability here. I don't know what the _hell_ has gotten into him, but I don't want him here anymore. He's going to end up killing one of the quarians, and Aria won't be happy if that happens. So you take him with you, and judge for yourself whether he was just spooked by Nazara or the geth or whatever, and if he's fit for the mission Wasea gives you. If he's not, send him home. If he refuses—"

"I'll let Aria know," Liselle finished for her. "I got it. I'll handle it. But there's one more thing... Remember when Kaelit said that Lorhan received geth prosthetics from them? He has a false eye. I've seen it in pictures. And Nazara told me something earlier... the only geth left 'alive' on Omega doesn't speak to her. She said it only 'sees'."

"Shit," Rasma sharply cursed, having to pause to reevaluate their position. "If she's connected to geth optics, and if the geth optics are wired up to Lorhan in a way where he can see what she does... then he's seen us. All of us."

"Eclipse wear helmets," Liselle said. "If we keep ours on the whole time, he won't be able to recognize us."

"Count on that, Liselle. And don't be afraid to avoid him once you're there if something goes wrong. I'll send Aria a lengthy report, but I'll probably need an hour or two to write it, plus while keeping an eye on everyone... Hopefully the quarians will be more cooperative now that they know there's a chance at redemption. In the meantime, you head over to the Eclipse outpost with Daus and do your best to explain to Wasea the accommodations you need. The helmet necessity, things like that."

She nodded dutifully, then returned with Rasma to the kitchen. There she collected Daus, who hesitated to remove himself from the presence of the quarians, but ultimately complied. Liselle tugged him away and they retrieved and checked their possessions to ensure nothing was being left behind, and while they did so, Vil'Yelva approached them and said with some uncertainty, "You have to be careful. He... He probably knows that Aria's found Nazara. He's probably seen you. Both of you."

Liselle grimly nodded, appreciative of the advice despite already having inferred that possibility. "I know. We'll keep low. Hopefully he'll believe that Aria's still preoccupied here, and won't expect us..." She turned to Daus for agreement, and he gave it, although it was wistful and only meant as comfort for themselves. In reality, Lorhan must have known they were coming for him. Their only intact defense was under what disguise they might present themselves to him. The Eclipse was their only shot at success at the man whose name had echoed about her head for weeks, but never physically manifested before her. She could only imagine him. A man situated high upon an Omegan tower whose heights were left unscaled by unfriendly forces, brooding and plotting there against the silent asteroid crag, hands folded neatly behind his back—one of them carried since birth, and the other luridly glinting with metals stolen from the Veil.

The pair strode past the vigilant Hiral while heading for the door, but Liselle paused once again when afflicted by the uncomfortable sense that she was being watched. She looked over her shoulder and found that she was correct. There in a corner where the shadows convened cradling the one who apparently did not fare well under light, whether it was from an augmented sensitivity or revulsion toward coming to terms with what one was without an opaque mist to hide behind, was Nazara, peering expectantly at her.

"Goodbye, Liselle Kasantis," she said. "I have an optimistic feeling about you."

A shiver made its way down her spine as she quickly averted her gaze. Liselle left along with Daus, far more eager to leave the quarians behind than he was.


	33. Wrath of a Lover

In the morning, Tevos left home two hours before Aria, who stayed behind to inflate the temporal distance between their arrivals at the Embassies. She leisurely spent her free time bathing, then on cooking and eating a meal which was an unusual experience for Aria, being so accustomed to having people whose employment entirely revolved around preparing food for her. Though lacking recent practice, Aria was not helpless—her breakfast was actually quite palatable, and she even considered another attempt in the future to refine her creation.

Before she left, Aria paused to open Tevos's lingerie drawer, and found that every item had been returned to its rightful place and state of neatness. When she peeled back the top layers she saw the black racy one folded and tucked into the spot where Aria had first discovered it, no longer featured in plain sight. Tevos's reaction to Aria's undisguised rifling was hard to decipher. Did straightening out her drawer without a single word of reprimand sent in Aria's direction communicate dismissal of her suggestion, or was it a sign of acknowledgment and consideration? Aria roasted with want to know, hating how Tevos always made her wait for everything she craved.

When Aria arrived at the asari embassy, where she was subject to many more Presidium-style stares and side whispers, Tevos emerged from her office to personally greet her, but not without the obligatory company of three personal security guards. With faint knowing smiles they grasped each other's hand in formal greeting, turned, and strode abreast toward the councilor's office. Their combined presence drew far more stares than Aria had alone as they passed through the bright halls and antechambers. Secretaries stared, legal advocates stared, diplomats stared... For a time, it seemed as though they were the only thing that mattered within the vicinity of a kilometer, and Tevos pretended not to notice or care despite being the effective instigator of the spectacle. But beneath her natural veneer of composure, Tevos possessed a distinct objective. She was parading Aria for publicity. She wanted the entire Citadel to know who she walked with, even after the incident with Neora. She wanted all to know where they were headed together: inexorably toward diplomacy and concord.

Tevos would never admit it to Aria, but she extracted from their journey every drop of pleasure it contained, for she recognized that this instance might have been one of the rare few that would ever occur in their lifetimes, where they could walk in unashamed tandem under public broad daylight. She felt exceptionally powerful with Aria at her side, given the sense that she had truly ascended to the highest feasible peak of galactic power, disregarding the fact of an actual office weilding that level of authority not currently being in existence. It was a power that could never be contained by a single individual. It was a totipotent power over the future conceived between two, and existed only so long as they remained indivisible.

When they passed Eleni's desk, the secretary bid them a polite good morning before they retreated into Tevos's office, leaving the C-Sec trio at the door while they conducted their business. Tevos sat behind her desk and Aria settled down into a chair placed before it, and took into her hands the tablet and stylus the councilor produced and handed her. Their treaty was displayed in the screen—many pages through which it took nearly ten seconds to scroll continuously from beginning to end—and presented the lines at its base where their signatures would soon lie together.

During the time Aria spent analyzing the document, making absolutely certain that no additional terms had been added in without her notice, Tevos activated her terminal and began working on something else entirely, though remained constantly available to clarify or answer any inquiries Aria might have developed. Several times she paused to briefly examine Aria, gazing at the concentration that knit her brow, drifting to the intelligence and comprehension in her eyes, and identifying within her a disposition worthy of her affection. Tevos reached out to her, a bit more boldly than tentatively, and placed her hand atop the one Aria was not presently using. Aria acknowledged the motion but gave little reaction. She was too absorbed in her reading to quip about it, remaining compliant and careless even when Tevos manipulated their hands and wove her fingers into the spaces between Aria's, uniting them palm to palm. Leaving their hands as such, Tevos returned to her terminal with her free one, content to navigate its interface in that limited manner.

When Aria spoke up, she conducted herself as though she weren't being touched at all. "I don't like having to ask you or High Command for permission to travel into asari space and I never will," she tritely muttered. "Am I not still asari? Aren't asari territories the collective inheritance of our people?"

"Believe it or not," Tevos replied, "this condition makes it _easier_ for you to travel within asari space. You don't have the appropriate visa to visit legally in the first place, and it's unlikely that you'd be approved to receive one, but with government permission—my permission—you can actually circumvent the problem altogether. It also may be worth pointing out that you forfeited Thessian citizenship when you destroyed your own records."

Aria eyed her in displeasure, then cast her gaze back down to the remainder of the treaty to confront the endless wall of tax terms and clauses.

Never did their hands disengage, surprising and delighting Tevos. Although it was unlikely, she hoped that Aria might remain just a _bit_ longer on the Citadel, just until Tevos returned from work and had the chance to see her off. Maybe long enough to accomodate a special parting gift, provided that Aria's wound was healed acceptably by then. Tevos would have been lying to herself if she claimed it hadn't been on her mind, with the desire exacerbated by nights spent struggling to keep her hands to herself while lying beside Aria.

After the approximate half hour Tevos had promised Aria, she watched her lift the stylus again, center the line for her signature within the frame of the tablet, and apply her name to the designated field. The device gave a small chirp upon accessing and accepting Aria's ID as valid. Tevos performed the same action when Aria handed the stylus to her and reoriented the tablet in her direction. Now bearing the required signatures, the treaty saved, locked its contents, and was submitted to both the Council archives and Asari High Command for reviewal. Copies of the document were issued to Tevos and Aria, appearing in their personal inboxes within seconds bearing subject tags redundantly informing them that they had signed a binding legal agreement.

Aria gave a somewhat relieved exhale and made to rise. Her omni-tool activated and glowed along her forearm.

"Are you leaving already?" Tevos asked her.

A semi-distracted nod was her response. "Something... important has come up. I need to leave as soon as possible."

"Something relevant to our shared interests?"

"Yes." Aria lowered her arm, starting to step back toward the door. " _Very_ relevant. My people need to find out a bit more, however, before I would hazard an approach. It's being dealt with as we speak but I need to be there to make sure things are running smoothly. I'll have to talk to you later about it."

" _That_ relevant, is it...?" Tevos asked with some grim intrigue. "Please do—speak to me about it as soon as you can, that is." It was unfortunate that she could not afford to stay, but the austerity in Aria's voice had completely overridden Tevos's less important personal desires. If what Aria's agents had just discovered was as pressing as it sounded, Tevos was more inclined to encourage her departure with enthusiasm.

"I intend to," said Aria. Before she said anything more, the councilor's desk-mounted intercom had begun to flash red and chime. "In the meantime," she continued over the disruption, "make sure to keep an eye out for—"

"Just a moment, Aria," Tevos halted her. "Let me dismiss this, it'll only be a second." She pressed a finger to an unobtrusive button, and said, "Yes, Eleni?"

_"Madam Councilor, the batarian ambassador Anrek Hib'mil has arrived for his appointment officially scheduled in an hour from now. I thought you'd prefer to know, since it might be uncomfortable to leave him waiting in reception for so long. I figured I'd give him a tourism pamphlet, and maybe a free meal voucher for that nice café in the commons."_

"That's sounds appropriate, Eleni. I'll get back to you in a minute. Thank you." She severed the two-way feed to peer at Aria, who had curiously stalled her departure to eavesdrop. "Odd," Tevos remarked. She opened her schedule and its annotations to confirm that the ambassador truly was as early as her secretary claimed. "I was informed by his references that Hib'mil is excruciatingly punctual. I suppose he might want to establish a favorable first impression? But that would make little sense for this context. At our people's expense I consider the asari to be among the _least_ punctual races in the galaxy..."

While Tevos had mused aloud, Aria had seemed to withdraw into herself. She now stood contemplating with a neutral yet deeply invested expression in her eyes and face. And then she asked Tevos, quietly and flatly, "Did passing that measure yesterday make you any enemies?"

Tevos looked up from her terminal and regarded her with perplexity. "Well, critics, yes," she reluctantly answered. "But what are... what exactly are you implying?"

Even before affording her a reply, Aria left her path in the direction of the exit and made her way over to Tevos's windows, parting the blinds and surveying the Presidium surroundings. "We're not taking any chances," she said briskly, migrating over to one of Tevos's potted plants to examine its fronds for... Tevos was not quite sure _what_ she was looking for. "Not with so much still unknown about who's after us." Aria displaced one of the black spare chairs to search the area it previously concealed.

Tevos's initial bewilderment was slowly transitioning into worry, but not enough to grant Aria's bizarre reaction total credibility. "Aria, do you honestly believe that the Batarian Hegemony would send to the Citadel a diplomatic representative with intentions to harm a councilor? Do you realize just how disastrous that would be for our already delicate relations? How could they possibly benefit from a catastrophe like that?"

Aria postponed her obsessive scavenger hunt to directly address her. "Tevos, I've had people after me for centuries. I've identified, thwarted, and survived more assassination attempts than there are _years in your life_. I _know_ when something's not right. And something's not right at this very moment."

She let the stylus idly clutched in her hand fall to her desk where it softly clattered. Panic surged instinctively in her middle, but Tevos overcame it, exhaled slowly to recapture her lost composure, and quietly asked Aria, "Then what do you suppose we do?" She folded her hands together patiently.

A hand was lifted to mask her mouth and chin as Aria intensely strategized. She removed the hand temporarily to speak. "Ask your secretary about the situation. What's the ambassador doing? Is he still there?"

Tentatively, Tevos took her advice. "Eleni? Did you give the ambassador that pamphlet and voucher you mentioned?"

_"Yes ma'am."_

"Is he still waiting there in reception?"

_"One moment, I just need to check... Yes, Councilor. He hasn't left."_

"I see. Thank you Eleni, that's all."

Aria seemed to compile the new information with what she was already working with, swiftly integrating it into some semblance of a plan. "If that ambassador's here to bring the fight to us... then he has allies who put him up to it. There are people he answers to. The hard part here isn't surviving; not with me around. The hard part here will be getting him to talk."

"You think that I can extract information from him, if he's indeed unfriendly."

"Exactly."

"...I don't know, Aria," Tevos confessed her hesitance. "I certainly might be able to learn something from him, but... what about you? What can you do in this situation?"

"I'll be here the whole time," Aria said, then looked about herself. She fixated on the auxiliary seating area attached to her office, ventured over to the assembly of couches, and obscured herself behind a protruding wall corner that aided in the division of the room. She leaned in to look around the section, taking the sight of Tevos seated at her desk back into her field of vision. "Can you see me when I'm standing here?" She retreated to her former position and adhered closely to the wall.

"No," Tevos replied.

Aria emerged from the discreet location. "This is what we'll do. Send the ambassador in and proceed with business as usual. I'll stay hidden the entire time. If he's an enemy, try to find out who sent him or what his motivations are, and the moment you feel threatened, call me out of hiding and I'll wipe the floor with him."

"Aria, you don't understand the ramifications of having someone of your profile listening in on a confidential diplomatic meeting. It would be an immense breach of security and the Batarian Hegemony would be _furious_ if I permitted it—"

"What the hell am I going to do with intelligence regarding the Khar'shan-Council relationship? Any conscious person knows it's destined for total ruin within the next few centuries. It's a skycar wreck happening in slow motion. And what if I'm not here when you talk to him, Tevos? You want to go head-to-head with a potential assassin? Are you feeling particularly lucky today or something? You feel like you know how to identify an assailant with more accuracy than myself?"

"I'm not helpless, Aria," said Tevos, bearing reproach in her tone. "I have a silent alarm installed beneath my desk as well as an emergency verbal phrase that can have C-Sec in here within _seconds._ Never subscribe to the misconception that I cannot effectively function without you."

"And what will C-Sec do for you?" Aria sternly questioned her. "They'll shoot to kill. You know they will. They might even fuck it up if he's made you a hostage." She placed her hands on Tevos's desk, securing her absolute attention. "If you keep me around, I _will_ protect you, and we _will_ capture this man alive."

"And then what, Aria? Tote him out of the Embassies in an industrial trash bag? This is the Citadel. He'll be imprisoned and questioned but you cannot force him to talk using violence. Your plan might address the immediate danger but we can't control what happens afterward."

"Then he'll just have to _educate_ us right here," said Aria, quite coldly.

"You can't be serious."

Aria lowered herself into the chair before Tevos's desk, then leaned forward. "Tevos, it's time to wake up," she told her with firm and deliberate emphasis. "The war isn't just on Omega anymore. It's _here_. It's come to _you_ now, and you need to start fighting it with everything you have, or you're going to lose."

The uncensored absoluteness of Aria's statement gave Tevos a long and severe pause. "But... I don't understand," she breathed. "How could it come here? What trace have I left behind for them to follow? Have I ever given myself away?"

"We don't know," Aria admitted without shame. "But that's something we'll just have to consider later. Right now, I think you know what needs to be done."

Tevos allowed another uneasy exhale depart her, and she visibly paled a shade. Her nerves were beginning to fray as the reality of the situation and possible mortal danger looming over the next several minutes began properly sinking into comprehension. She felt as though she were about to impulsively hurl herself over the side of a colossal precipice with no discernible base, and the accompanying vertigo was starting to permeate her bones. It was completely possible that Aria's paranoia was just scaring Tevos into alarm over an imaginary scenario, but she not could afford to discount the potential for all of it being true. It was simply _jarring_ to conceive such a scene unfolding on the Presidium of all places. To Tevos it was so outlandish that it crossed the border into surrealism, which had contributed heavily to her prior disbelief.

But she needed to do this. Aria risked her life nearly _every day_ now by exposing herself to the raw horrors frenetically clawing their way out of the criminal underworld, while Tevos remained shielded by a massive web of stable institutions and forces that uniformly endeavored to keep people like her safe and secure on a daily basis. Tevos was convinced that this was her duty to their alliance, their treaty, their continued era of peace. She only doubted whether she was in possession of enough foolhardy courage to face what was required of her.

Tevos almost flinched when she felt Aria's hand atop hers, folding them together and intertwining their fingers just as she had done to them earlier.

"Councilor," Aria tenderly utilized her title, "I'm going to be here with you. Right behind that wall. The very _instant_ you call me, you'll be perfectly safe. I promise."

All the reassurance she needed was present in Aria's eyes; vigorously bright and beautiful and imbuing every promise she thought fit to make with lucent, comforting honesty. There was no place safer in the entire universe than under Aria's protection, they said. And Tevos believed it.

"All right," Tevos answered at great length. "I'll let him in. I'll tell Eleni you left a while ago, and that she missed you go by."

The councilor pressed her finger to the intercom button, contacting her secretary's desk. "Eleni, go ahead and send in the ambassador. I'm ready to see him."

_"I thought you were still meeting with Miss T'Loak."_

"The treaty has been signed, and she left several minutes ago. Didn't you see her?"

_"Goddess. I'm so sorry, Madam Councilor. She must have walked by while I was taking that call— Yes, of course, Councilor. I'll send him in right now."_

While striding toward her hiding spot, Aria glanced back over her shoulder to slyly remark, "Gullible and obsequious. Good choice."

"She's a sweet girl," Tevos defended her, then exchanged no more words with Aria while awaiting the ambassador.

Aria was utterly silent from the moment she disappeared behind the protruding wall corner, impressing Tevos no small degree. After a minute passed she actually felt alone, and reflexively contemplated asking if Aria was still there. It was of little wonder how Aria so easily dodged her personal guard during visits. Of course, it helped to have Tevos advising her on their routes, disabling alarms from afar, and unlocking her point of entry, but even the most complete understanding of one's environment was worthless without the dexterity and patience to navigate it.

In the seconds leading up to the inevitable, part of Tevos still desperately clung to the possibility of Aria being wrong, and that Anrek Hib'mil was precisely who he said he was: devoted to maintaining the fragile bridge between his people and the pinnacle of modern galactic culture and commerce.

_Aria is wrong sometimes_ , Tevos told herself, then added with apprehension, _but... she is correct almost every time._

The door opened. Into the healthy light of her office stepped a broad-shouldered batarian man in upper-caste raiment, decorated with expert stitching and planes of subdued hues which boasted a subtle iridescent gleam. She afforded him a smile and rose from her chair to greet him, recalling all that she had read about customary batarian gestures and taking great care not to offend him, and he seemed to do the same for her. He was tentative at first, albeit not unconfident as his superiors had undoubted trained him to show unwavering dignity, but he made no superfluous motion that might've been interpreted as rude to a species vastly different from his own. Leaving tacit communication to only what was obviously congenial, they settled into their chairs and initiated their discussion.

"It is my hope that the hospitality of the Citadel has treated you well, Ambassador," Tevos said to him. "Have you just landed today, or might you've had the chance to room at one of the Presidium's hotels?"

"I just landed a few hours ago," he answered. "We were a bit earlier than expected, hence my timing."

Relief flourished within Tevos at his explanation. "Well, perhaps that shall mean more time for you to experience the Citadel once our business is concluded," she affably said. "Now, it is my understanding that today's consultation was primarily intended to address the state of our relations and propose a model for the next decade or so?"

"Indeed," he replied. "We live in strange times, Councilor. The perpetual uneasiness between our peoples can only be remedied through the actions of those with an ambitious future in mind. The most divisive issue I've recently isolated is, as expected, the treatment of the batarian people abroad."

"I—yes, I'm saddened to admit to the Citadel's strict capacity. Had this all occurred under different circumstances we might've been able to satisfy the needs of more people, but the amount of constraints and duress rendered us quite inflexible."

"Also, another matter needing to be addressed: the relationship between the Council and Terminus Systems."

"...The Terminus Systems?" Tevos echoed. "I confess there isn't much to say about that relation. The depth of it is entirely comprised of the eternal struggle to maintain peace and little else." She glanced at her terminal where her notes lied open for her periodic consultation, and spent a second scrolling through them to access a particular category. "Certainly the Traverse acts as an indirect avenue into those territories, however stringent trade policies generally prohibit the import of most product generated by the largest Terminus-based industries, which are, as one might suspect, weapons and narcotics—"

When she faced him again, Tevos found herself staring into the polished end of a pistol's sound suppressor.

She had been given time to brace herself. Aria had granted her that opportunity, even _forced_ it upon her, in a sense. But reconciling herself with the situation she now found herself in was something entirely different, and no amount of mental preparation could have ever hoped to simulate her position with adequate resemblance to reality. Tevos didn't move. It was wise not to, although her stillness might not have been exerted out of choice, but out of stark inability to do _anything_ from the surprise and shock that paralyzed her limbs.

"We know what you've been doing," said the ambassador. He had risen from his chair with painstaking assiduity. "You're ruining everything we've worked for. Everything. But it stops today. Keep your hands where I can see them." From a pocket in his clothing he produced a small datapad and slid it over to Tevos. Never did his leveled aim waver.

"...What is this?" Her query was issued in hardly a whisper. Tevos dared to avert her eyes from the firearm to examine what she had been given.

"An executive data package to your government, containing evidence that Aria T'Loak was responsible for the murder of Spectre Neora Sarthis. And you're going to sign it."

"That's... that's not possible," Tevos managed to say. "We know for a _fact_ that my Spectre had been manipulated. _She_ attacked Aria. If anyone is in danger of bearing fault, it's the Council."

"I'm not going to argue with you."

Tevos swiftly processed what was being demanded of her, then looked up again to meet his eyes, trying to pretend the gun wasn't there. "Why would _you_ represent High Command? Why is this important to them...?"

_Unless,_ Tevos thought, _they're trying to cover for Vathesa and simultaneously implicate Aria, thus justifying their actions against her. But at the cost of... myself?_ _That's it. That must be what they're doing. High Command is exonerated while their disagreeable councilor is taken out of the equation... Then they know. They know I'm involved. Could Medora have planned this all along?_ A gruesome chill ran down her spine. Suddenly, she felt dangerously faint.

"You won't let my people survive on Omega," he bitterly said. "And now you won't even let my people survive on the Citadel. You don't care about what we're dealing with. You don't care about what we're trying to salvage out of Omega. Either you sign this, _Councilor_ , or I kill you. Both outcomes will end in a victory for me. You decide which is easier. You have one minute."

"You don't understand. High Command is foolish for believing they can alter the fundamental nature of Omega just by inserting a puppet ruler in Aria's stead. It will only incite the station's resentment toward Council Space... If you kill her, this galaxy _will_ end up at war sooner or later. You have to consider what you're doing by—"

"Fucking sign it!" The supposed ambassador suddenly hissed. "Sign it _now!"_ He violently jabbed the gun at her, leveling its barrel with the center of her forehead.

Out of the periphery of her vision Tevos caught the sight of Aria quickly glancing around the corner of the wall she kept herself braced against. The ambassador hadn't seen her; his back was facing her general direction. Aria was ready to leap into action, her movements bursting with anticipation and discomfort, but Tevos felt it within her ability to procure a bit more intelligence before unleashing her failsafe.

"And what has High Command promised you in return? Aid for your people? They're the ones who supported my passing of the deportation measure in the first place. They're _using_ you and you're not aware—"

He stepped to one side of Tevos's desk and gripped the back of her neck, deciding it time to resort to force. "I said sign it! Now!" Abruptly, he withdrew his pistol only to swing the grip forward, striking Tevos in the side of her face and eliciting an indignant albeit startled cry of pain, as well as another verbalized refusal. He raised his gun to strike her again, much harder this time, but before the weapon could connect with her head it was inexplicably whipped away from his grasp, sailing to the side at a prodigious velocity while cloaked in pale cobalt radiance. It smacked against a far wall, now useless to him at that distance.

In frantic confusion the false ambassador turned, but the moment he saw who else remained in the office, a terror gripped him so thoroughly that he could do nothing in his own defense but gape and take a single staggering step backward. Aria had emerged from hiding with bloodcurdling murder in her eyes, instantly entering a sprint so swift that in less than a second she had vaulted herself over the desk at him, gripped his face in her hand, and allowed her momentum to send them both additionally forward into the window where she crushed his head back against the reinforced glass pane. Weblike fractures burst from the point of impact before Aria hurled the dazed man to the floor. She pursued him, pinning him down with a combination of her own weight and a hand about his throat, squeezing tightly and pressing downward as if to bolt him in place. Aria's right fist descended, glowing an eerie blue as her knuckles viscerally cracked against his face, then again, and again, without relent.

Tevos stood to witness the brutality in horror, holding a hand against the pained area of her face. So quickly had the batarian's countenance grown slick with bright red blood, and profuse streams of it begun slurring and drowning out his screams into gasping, choking agony. Over and over Aria hit him, the expression on her face curled and twisted by a wild rage that no longer entertained the goal of taking a prisoner. No—she was killing him.

"Aria!" she exclaimed. "Aria, stop! _Stop!"_

Aria was not amenable to the request. Something had inflamed her temper to its absolute threshold, sending it boiling up and bursting cleanly through the ceiling shell of cold composure which once insulated and concealed the true temperatures of her emotion. That inscrutable Aria was gone, lost to her own fury and bloodlust, hitting harder each time she brought her fist down until the man was undoubtedly unconscious. And still she persisted.

Tevos hit the silent alarm beneath her desk and rushed over to Aria, dropping down at her side to grip her shoulders and attempt pulling her off the assailant. "Goddess, Aria, _stop!"_ she tried again, distraught. "You're _killing_ him!"

Her sincere effort was fruitless. By the time C-Sec came rushing into her office his face was so thoroughly disfigured, and he had bled out so profusely that he was undeniably, traumatically dead. The C-Sec officers immediately separated them all, helped Tevos to her feet, sequestered her behind a protective wall of personal guards, and called in emergency medics to assess her state and that of the pulpy victim beneath Aria.

They harshly seized the bloodstained Omegan and managed to pry her away. If Aria had been livid before, C-Sec's attempt at subduing her failed to pacify her any amount. Three extensively trained officers in full combat armor were struggling to push Aria down onto the councilor's desk and restrain her hands behind her back to complete the arrest, but Aria was fiercely fighting them, mere seconds away from throwing them off with an eruption of biotics. She would rip through them like paper, Tevos feared, and that would be an incident far beyond her capabilities to palliate.

"Aria!" Tevos called out to her, straining to meet her gaze over the armored shoulders of the guards corralling her. She found Aria's eyes, and saw that they only contained urgency as she battled her own instinct to retain her personal freedom at any cost, even if that cost entailed the ignition of a diplomatic calamity. By now the medics had arrived. One dropped to the pseudo-ambassador's side to determine whether he was revivable, while the other had begun examining the side of Tevos's face. "Aria, don't resist!" Tevos said. Her persistence in maintaining eye contact was complicating the medic's job of dabbing at her wound. "I'm going to clear everything up and I promise they'll release you as soon as the situation is understood by the authorities. They won't be able to detain you for long. _Please_ Aria, I'm going to handle this. I'll handle everything."

Aria fought against C-Sec for two more bitter seconds before she swore and reluctantly ceased struggling. She remained defiantly stiff even as they cuffed her and hastily escorted her from the office. The last look Aria exchanged with the councilor was virtually uninterpretable to all but Tevos herself. There was searing demand in it, understandable given her predicament. And there was also a strange aspect of bewilderment, as if Aria had finally been struck by the realization of what she had just done to the man she once vehemently insisted on capturing alive.

"Are you all right, Madam Councilor?" Tevos heard the medic ask her. She had asked her the same question at least three times now. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"I'm fine," she said, although she was not sure she meant it.

"We need to get you out of here. C-Sec needs to secure the scene."

"No, not yet," Tevos objected to the attempt to displace her from that spot. "I need to explain to them what's happened first."

"They've called in the head of security to speak with you, Councilor. He'll take your statement then."

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

After the autopilot of their rented cab found them standing at the edge of a bleak shopping plaza approximately one kilometer away from the quarian's property, Liselle and Daus hopped into the front row of seats and paid the initial fee. The controls were unlocked for their usage once the credits had been wired, blinking to life in front of Liselle as the doors hissed shut around them. She plotted a course for the Wasea's Eclipse outpost and the engine's hum rose from its gentle idle into the frequencies of flight before rising from the street. Once in the air, the cab's computer made its way into the routes reserved for commuter traffic, merged without fuss, and proceeded to carry its passengers to their destination.

They soared between the inverted spires Liselle had known all her life and grew fond of, despite how they hung like a mouth of jagged, daunting teeth when viewed at a distance. It was the architecture of her home, both beautiful and terrible, not unlike all the endemic micro-cultures and creations within Sahrabarik.

The first five minutes of their flight were spent in silence. In the limited light Liselle turned to take Daus into her sight, finding him somewhat stiff in posture with his facial plating severely held in a mirthless expression. Quietly, she spoke to him. "Hey," she said, then waited until he acknowledged her with eye contact. "Are you okay?"

He said nothing initially, but eventually sighed. "Yeah." He turned to face the windshield again.

While Daus no longer preferred to look at Liselle, she was far more disposed to keep her eyes steadily upon him. "What happened?"

"I... I don't know," he replied with a trace amount of self-directed incredulity. "I just lost it. Seeing what they were doing in there... it freaked me out. Made me sick." His voice lowered in volume as he solemnly added, "Made me hate them."

"Were you actually going to kill Kaelit if he didn't talk?"

"No. I don't think so... I just wanted to scare the shit out of him."

"Well, it worked," Liselle wryly remarked. "Are you going to be okay at the outpost? We really have to focus for this one. There's a _lot_ at stake this time."

"Yeah, I'm good," he said, perhaps willing his assurance into truth instead of originally drawing from any inherent honesty. "I just need to put it all out of mind. Like letting go of a nightmare, except... this one's real. But I know what I have to do now. I know what's needed of me. I'm here one hundred percent." Daus faced her again, nodding for emphasis before affording her a ghost of a smile.

"I'm glad," Liselle confessed. "I don't think I would've felt too comfortable going into this operation alone. Well, I know I wouldn't be _alone_ , I just meant... without a friend." She privately reprimanded herself for allowing her last several words to sound timid upon leaving her lips. Fortunately, Daus didn't seem to mind.

"I've got your back, Liselle," he said. "We'll get that Lorhan bastard. Me and you. And Lieutenant Wasea, I guess." He chuckled. Liselle was happy to hear it. "Speaking of her, I heard from Lekahn that you've already met. Who exactly are we going to be dealing with?"

Liselle deeply inhaled while deciding what to say. "She's... tough. Ruthless, smart, heartless. She doesn't seem to care about anyone, just about what they can do for her. I'm honestly a little worried. When I spoke to her a while back she said she was tired of doing jobs for Aria and wasn't going to do them ever again. What could've changed her mind? It's making me wonder if she lied to Aria and plans to turn on her."

"Really can't trust anyone these days, huh? We'll keep a close eye on her."

"Yeah," Liselle agreed.

At one point during their trip, Daus slid the control interface over to his side of the dash. "Hear that?" he asked Liselle. After spending a moment straining to hear the anomaly—a succession of distant pops—she nodded. "Sounds like trouble up ahead." Daus input a command that had their vehicle change altitudes. They ascended to the uppermost lane of traffic, where he thought them safer.

Liselle gazed out her window and saw two skycars below them flying dangerously close to one another. The pops had become louder, and she could see little flecks of white being exchanged from the windows. They accelerated under a varnish of multi-colored light, gleaming and skipping off the bodies of the cars in a liquid coat, only corrupted by dents where missed gunfire had burrowed. Soon, they were beyond the reach of Liselle's perception.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

The remainder of Tevos's day had been chaotic and teeming with stress. By the time it was over she felt as if she were on the verge of nervous breakdown, and had only earlier prevented it by keeping so busy and over encumbered that she paradoxically removed any slot of time that might have accommodated a single moment for self-destruction.

She had devoted much of her energy to resolving Aria's detainment, a feat only achieved after two hours spent explaining, negotiating, and pulling certain executive strings she swore to only utilize in the most troubling of circumstances. Upon corroborating Tevos's insistence that there were no viable grounds for charging Aria with the evidence C-Sec obtained from the scene in her office, Aria's actions were officially deemed committed in the asari councilor's defense. At Tevos's behest they released her early to avoid further agitating the incident and misunderstanding.

It was reported that Aria had glared menacingly through the window of her detainment cell throughout the _entire_ first hour of imprisonment, and during the second she spitefully refused a medic who offered to examine her right hand, which was visibly bruised and smeared lightly by her own violet blood. Only after the councilor personally contacted her did Aria accept the minor treatment: an application of disinfectant, a quick confirmation that no bones had been broken, and some light bandaging to be worn only for the first stages of healing.

When Aria was free to go, she slipped away to brood in her hotel room. That she had not opted to leave the Citadel immediately was a patent sign that she wished to see Tevos again before her departure, presumably to make sense of the tumultuous day with her. With Aria relatively placated, Tevos had then turned to other matters.

The true ambassador Anrek Hib'mil was found tied up and locked in a maintenance closet. He mercilessly lambasted the Citadel for inadequate security measures and swore to report back to Khar'shan with a detailed review of his maltreatment. Nothing could be said to him to change his mind; no conciliatory promises, no offers of special privilege. He was adamant, and they had no choice but to allow him to return home with what could've very well been the proverbial final nail in the coffin for the Khar'shan-Citadel relationship. The diplomats could only pray that there would be an opportunity for appeasement.

The C-Sec investigators recovered the device containing the document the ambassador had tried threatening Tevos into signing, and although the contents clearly proclaimed direct affiliation with Asari High Command, contacting them yielded no response aside from unvarying shock and denial. Medora had requested a prompt audience with Tevos to discuss the details of the incident. Knowing that they could not risk talking about their project of influencing Omega's fate in such settings, the two did not once deviate from a discussion centered solely around the false ambassador and conjecture about what might have happened if he successfully persuaded Tevos into signing it.

_"Asari High Command would have evaluated its contents and immediately declared it spurious,"_ Medora had said via vid comm, after reviewing a copy of the frightful document. _"I would be generous to even call it crude. Councilor Tevos, this man was manipulated somehow, if he indeed believed that his so-called services would please us. High Command may imprudently embroil itself in many unsettling things, but we do not leave behind blatant paper trails for the galaxy to freely access. You know this couldn't have come from us, Councilor. There's no question."_

"I am honestly unsure of what I should believe," Tevos had responded. "After this, Medora... after everything I've found, I find it concerning that I now feel safer in the lone company of Aria T'Loak than I do with my own daily correspondents."

_"Yes, I heard about that. She was the one who neutralized him, wasn't she?"_

"She was. I might owe her my life."

_"I believe a formal apology might be in order,"_ Medora had sighed. _"High Command has inconvenienced her more than once in the past. Perhaps it will again in the future. But as of now, we are all aware of what Aria T'Loak has done for us, for our councilor. Her swift magnanimity is deserving of laud, and I doubt my associates could bring themselves to disagree. Even those previously entrenched in opposing sentiments."_

There had still existed the problem of deciding how the incident would be presented to the public. With the Embassies having been stirred by an all-consuming fuss where rumors and worries had rampantly fermented over the span of just a few hours, it was now impossible for public relations to contain the news with secrecy. The people would want a report explicating what had happened and whether the Embassies, and by extension the Citadel itself, was secure.

Control over how the events would be depicted in the next media broadcast was the sole point of flexibility on which they could pivot, and consequently it was also the most vital. Time was short, however, and Tevos could only stress to the Council's press secretary the necessity for reporting only what was known with absolute certainty—no speculation to drum up controversy, no sharing information still undergoing examination, and no publication of the assailant's true identity until his recovered records had been thoroughly cross-referenced with other sources. The situation was sitting atop a minefield of recent unrest in the Wards, and a disruption of this scale could easily detonate said charges into a disaster that no public relations advisor nor diplomat alike wanted to affront.

With most items of greatest importance checked off her list, Tevos ordered for her office a window replacement for propriety's sake, then contacted Aria to plan her visit for that evening. While Tevos had found herself in the compromising position of hardly being able to move without colliding with one of her personal security guards, their concentration was only highest wherever the councilor herself was. It was not so around her property, although that state would change as soon as she approached; therefore Tevos decided to grant Aria early entry to avoid the heaviest waves of security. As expected she brought along with her an armed entourage upon her return home, who accompanied her all the way to her very doorstep before informing her that they would be erecting and maintaining a perimeter throughout all hours of the night.

Even within the walls of her own home where Aria somewhere lurked within, Tevos remained restless. The side of her face still ached, and the small adhesive bandage placed on her upper cheekbone made her skin feel uncomfortably taut. She activated the monitor in her front sitting room, left it on a primary news network, and obsessively watched a clock for the time when the segment regarding the incident was scheduled to air. Her singular focus and anticipation nearly caused her to jolt when she saw in the periphery of her a vision a dark figure approaching from the hallway. It was Aria, come to join her.

When she silently sat down beside her on the same couch facing the glow of the projection, Tevos realized that she knew not how to greet her. She was in a daze, her reason muddled by hours of intense rumination and frantic damage control. She felt as if there were hardly anything left within her. It had all been spent on the previous hours, reserving nothing for Aria except a weary, divested gaze.

Aria, on the other hand, was indefatigable. In defiance of the councilor's look, which conveyed the scope of her exhaustion, Aria further burdened her by stating, "We're in hot water now."

Tevos lifted a hand to her face, pinching the bridge of her nose in aversion to a developing headache. It was true. Now that Tevos had become a target, their alliance had been exposed to some degree. But how, she wondered for the infinite time that day? How had had she compromised herself? Tevos had been _so careful_ in every operation, not once showing her hand or revealing the depth of her affiliations. Was the fact that Tevos opposed intervention in Omega's feuds cause enough to remove her from the equation? The pressure of distress building up within her chest instilled a profound urge to weep, but she kept her reflex in check by drawing and expelling a slow, measured breath. She turned to look at Aria's lap, where her hands lied tensely, and saw that she had already peeled back the bandaging administered by the medic at the C-Sec precinct, revealing her knuckles. Along their ridges was a dappling of dark purple, marking all the places where Aria's anger had outgrown the surface of her body and split through her own flesh.

After lowering her hand from her face, Tevos quietly asked her, "How is your hand? Does it hurt?"

"No," Aria answered, and said nothing more for a long time.

They sat together in silence, watching the news but not comprehending it. The volus reporting market fluctuations served as nothing but a background of white noise, and the presented graphs showed a range of colored peaks and steep valleys without meaning. Tevos's higher awareness only resurfaced when a senior news anchor reminded viewers that the Council's press secretary would soon be issuing a release to comment on the strangely secretive whirlwind of serious events engulfing the Embassies that day, and would cut to that specific stream as soon as it began.

Tevos felt Aria rise. She watched her as she left the couch, reseated herself in an adjacent armchair, and pulled herself up to the table Tevos was currently residing before. She retrieved a lone drinking glass she had apparently left on the middle shelf, centered it on the table, and faced Tevos again.

"Lift this," she said.

Tevos expressed her bemusement and little else.

"Lift it," Aria repeated. The command was purposely made to sound nonnegotiable. "I want to see what you can do."

"Aria, _please_ ," Tevos despondently replied. She felt barren of strength, so much that she'd rather plead and bargain with Aria than fight her right now, even at the expense of her pride. "This isn't a good time."

"Then what _is_ a good time?" she demanded, suddenly and inexplicably bristling. "When you're splattered all over the interior of your—"

Aria had stopped of her own accord. The councilor had recoiled as the grisly scene was drafted, but did not object when Aria had made to nearly paint it in full. She would have passively let the words pile on her back and press their terrible weight downward, had Aria not switched thoughts mid-sentence.

She noticed that she felt quite strangely toward Aria now. Tevos realized that at heart, she wished Aria hadn't been with her tonight, as if her presence brought with it something oppressive or frightening. She felt safe with Aria... and yet she did not. Tevos wished to be alone. Abruptly she regretted not minding her aides' encouragement to seek consultation with a therapist, who might've been able to provide useful insight or advice on how to weather through the trauma that had left her decidedly fragile. How ever did Aria so easily shrug off days like this, after she felt herself mere seconds from oblivion, when she saw before her the life leaving another's body? Her emotional constitution must have been forged from steel. If there was any doubt of that before, it was utterly gone now.

"Councilor," Aria began again, stealing Tevos from her thoughts, "you _need_ to know how to defend yourself. What if I wasn't there today? What would you have done? Would you have signed what he gave you? What if he was tasked with killing you no matter the outcome?"

"I would have called C-Sec in the very instant I realized the threat." A new flame of indignity flickered within Tevos, maligning Aria's assumption that she would have been helpless. "The only reason I stalled was to fulfill _your_ suggestion. If _you_ had not been there today, he would have never stood close enough to strike me." Almost immediately she wished to rescind her words, once again spited by her own caviling. They had served no purpose aside from attacking Aria, and she was no enemy of hers.

Aria gave an incendiary leer, lips drawing into a thin frustrated line as Tevos's accusation boiled in her conscience.

"Aria—"

"Lift the damn glass." When Aria spoke, she enunciated slowly, clearly, and deliberately.

"You know I can't," she warned her.

"I think you _can_ ," insisted Aria. "Now _try_. I'm not going back to Omega until you show me that you can defend yourself if it comes to that."

Tevos eventually, albeit recalcitrantly, surrendered to her request. She held herself at a slight forward lean, fixated on the drinking glass, and willed it to move at the behest of innate biotic ability. Though a spectral blue membrane enclosed the glass completely, rippling its apparent image and casting off thin wisps of stray negative energy, the glass did not move from its original position. Gestures were executed to augment her desire. At last the glass was lifted several modest centimeters at first, rose higher, then settled back down on the table. Aria bade her to repeat the action, and Tevos humored her once more... But before long, she became unbearably disconcerted by how closely Aria was monitoring her and declared that she was finished.

Tevos was dually mystified and agitated when Aria removed the glass and stood to push the table from the center of the room to one wall and inserted herself in its former location.

"Push me," Aria ordered, standing tall and undaunted before the councilor.

"Aria, do you have any idea how exhausted I am—?"

"Push me _now!"_

There ripped into existence a small burst of light the moment Tevos extended her arm. In this flash was embedded her culminated annoyance with Aria's relentless provocations, generating a force whose magnitude sent Aria staggering back a step when it collided with her chest. When she recovered, faint approval had surfaced in her previously inhospitable eyes. But Tevos did not share her pleasure; she meanwhile burned with chagrin at having allowed herself to resort to violence, even if her offense was perfectly benign. If Tevos were of any commendable talent she might have actually caused Aria injury, provided that she did not defend herself in that reality as well. Feeling regretful as she watched Aria dust out the wrinkles in her shirt, she apologized.

"Aria, I'm sorry, I—"

"No, it was a good start." Aria appeared to brace herself by planting her feet firmly on the floor. "Do it again. Harder this time."

"I'm not doing this anymore," Tevos refused, returning to the couch to adamantly fortify her decision. "In a functioning society, the onus should _never_ be on the individual to defend oneself. Civilians should not have to feel obligated to seek out self defense capabilities when there are institutions whose sole purpose is to protect them. This isn't the Terminus Systems. This is _my_ home, and I would be ashamed if on the Citadel it ever became acceptable to say that the physically inept don't deserve to survive. That might be Omega rhetoric, but those notions are _not_ welcome here."

"And what'll you do if it's not some amateur impersonator next time? What happens if it's someone infiltrating your _own_ security, Tevos? Cops won't protect you anymore. Only _you_ can protect yourself now."

"Yes they _will_. I've known my personal security officers for years. I've even spoken to several of their family members! If there ever appears an imposter among them I _will_ notice immediately."

Before their debate could continue, the announcement of the press release captured Tevos's attention, leaving Aria with her rebuttal uselessly hanging in the air without anyone to actively hear it.

The projection displayed the image of the Council's press secretary taking her place at a podium in the Council Chambers, briefly arranging her notes as flickers of light from camera drones glazed her features, and the atmosphere was only sparsely filled by the onlookers' murmur of voices and fidgeting.

"Who's allowed to carry weapons into the Embassies?" Aria asked, still vying to continue their conversation.

"C-Sec and Spectres, exclusively," Tevos replied wearily, never averting her eyes from the broadcast. "And turian military officers are permitted to carry ceremonial knives, but not firearms. The policy is strict."

"Are _you_ subject to searches every day? The councilors?"

"I—no, not generally. We're protected by certain confidentiality protocols."

"Then I suspect Estulius arranged this."

Tevos regarded her with incredulity. "Aria, would he even know I'm involved? What does he know, aside from my investigation into Spectre Neora's death? And why, in the Goddess's name, might he find it a good idea to organize an assassination attempt on another councilor? It's too outrageous, Aria. It's too outrageous, even for him. It's far more likely that your Parem Igrahal orchestrated this."

"No, it's not," said Aria. "Because _she_ gives a damn about the batarians. _She_ wouldn't have sent one of her own people into the fire, which brings _all of them_ along for the ride. This is a diversion tactic, Tevos. This is the work of someone in need of cannon fodder. The only outrageous thing here is you continuing to deny just how dangerous Kylris Estulius really is."

"Estulius would have known that this man was destined for failure. More than anyone else he is aware of a councilor's options in a hostage situation. He would have known that I'd possess the resources to stop anything from happening. If what you believe is correct, then the document the batarian presented me was _knowingly_ in vain, and so was the ambition of removing me."

"Then Estulius was aiming to do something else entirely." Aria sounded as if her conclusion was immensely evident.

Tevos did not reply to Aria's grasping for an appreciable foothold. The murmur from the live broadcast had died down when the press secretary lifted her head, preparing to preside.

_"I bear with me the unfortunate account of the incident that occurred in the Embassies today,"_ began the press secretary. Tevos afforded the asari undivided attention, and noted that Aria was doing the same from where she stood beside the couch with her hands fitted on her hips. _"The Council and C-Sec authorities regret that a comment could not be issued immediately in the aftermath, due to the ensuing confusion and torrent of questions that arose as a result. It was our intention to avoid inciting undue worry or panic, since the situation came under control mere moments after its occurrence. Tonight I can confidently report on circumstances as they presently stand, and the conclusions that have been drawn from gathered evidence."_

She lightly cleared her throat. _"This morning, at approximately nine twenty galactic standard time, a batarian extremist impersonating Khar'shan Ambassador Anrek Hib'mil entered Asari Councilor Tevos's office and threatened her at gunpoint and with additional physical violence. He demanded that she sign a document which would have collectively granted several hundred batarian individuals asylum on the Citadel. This document has been since recovered and analyzed for authorship, but it remains uncertain who directed this man's attack, and whether harming the councilor was included in his original intent. At this point it has only been confirmed that he was an activist in the Khar'shan Abroad movement. The Embassies would like to appreciate the actions of Omega representative Aria T'Loak, who was present to intervene in the defense of Councilor Tevos. The Council and its substituents would also like to formally apologize to Ambassador Anrek Hib'mil and the Khar'shan government, citing a security breach as the cause for this terrible incident. Citadel security has since focused their efforts on evaluating security measures and scanning equipment for the oversight that erroneously permitted a firearm into the Embassies, while police presence in the Embassies has been doubled for what will likely be several days if not weeks. Violent radicalism will not be tolerated on the Citadel. We live in a community that draws from every region of the galaxy, where pluralism of ideology and politics is paramount. The actions of terrorists will not persist here. The people of the Citadel shall prevail by standing united against the forces that would endeavor to sabotage our society and its leaders._ "

When the short release came to a close, a flurry of questions assaulted the press secretary. She selected one from the flood to answer first, but Tevos was too lost in her own thoughts to hear all the imminent vague and evasive responses. She stared at the projection but did not perceive, and in her lap her fingers were curling into stiff but uncertain fists. Aria had turned to monitor her body language for a few minutes, letting her gaze rise from her fists to her face. The councilor's eyes seemed to glisten in the blue and green hues of artificial light, quivering with suppressed emotion. Tevos activated her omni-tool, quickly scrolling through her contacts.

"What are you doing?" Aria asked.

"I need to make a call," she coldly replied. "I'm firing our press secretary."

Aria briefly raised her brow, admittedly not anticipating that drastic response. "You're really that displeased?"

"Even if she didn't write this release, she approved it." Tevos pressed her fingertip to one specific contact and held her fingers to her earpiece. "I need to fix this." A moment passed before her correspondent picked up. "Eleni? Are you watching the press release? Yes. Yes, I heard it all. Now I want you find out who wrote or contributed to the release, and when you identify them I want you to start filling out their dismissal forms and send them to me for a signature. I want them _out_ of the Embassies by tomorrow morning."

When Tevos ended her call, Aria was still observing her with as much intrigue as disapproving bafflement. "You're upset that the blame is being placed on the batarians. You do realize that he _was_ , in some form or other, a violent radical? The only bullshit I heard in there was substituting Asari High Command with a mass asylum grant. I wasn't even surprised to hear it. All it takes is for a matriarch to call up the press secretary and issue a special government order for a cover-up. That's just how the lovely homeworld Thessia plays the game. Aren't you more familiar with it than most?"

Tevos's hands had returned to their former state of being fists. She could hardly bear to look Aria in the eye when she bitterly replied, "That is _not_ an excuse to demonize an entire people! And what did he mean, Aria, when he spoke to me in my office today? What did he mean when he accused me of not letting batarians live on Omega either? What is happening there, Aria? Who's dying? Is it just _your_ people, your mercenaries? Or is it _everyone?"_

Silence was Aria's initial answer. She appeared calm and so devoid of reaction that it leapt out in significance, even extending into her composed reply, "Wars can't be fought without collateral damage anymore, Councilor. Those are bygone times."

A disturbance in the relatively uniform noise from the projector caught their attention. It was an update, given when the press release stream split into two screens, complete with dual ribbons of subtitles for each, to allow a news anchor to report the start of a riot in Bachjret Ward. An advisory to residents and bystanders was issued, warning those in the area to avoid the bar in which the conflict began. Already were injuries and property damage being reported... and one death, the news anchor grimly said. The death that fleeing witnesses were claiming to have sparked the riot: the stabbing of Vikra Kascabar, one of the most prominent leaders of Khar'shan Abroad. He had just been declared dead by emergency medical responders.

Tevos could bear to listen no more. She muted the broadcast, holding a hand over her mouth in horror.

An entire people, vilified for the actions of few. An entire people made to suffer for the Council's inability to handle misfortune in an objective, non-presuming manner. The shock of guilt was permeating her, causing her to lower her hand only to hollowly despair, "This... this is all my fault. If I hadn't signed the measure... If I'd fought it... If I'd done what I thought was right..."

"It wouldn't have changed things," said Aria. "Estulius still would've been able to pull this off with a different pawn."

"That isn't what matters here!" Tevos exclaimed. "If I hadn't signed, Estulius wouldn't have been able to use radical batarians as a scapegoat! There would have been zero motive for one to attack me, the only councilor who hadn't signed! Because of me, these people are suffering!" She gestured to the monitor. "These are people I've hurt and alienated just for my job security, Aria! And what if I've done the same by helping you? Why did the false ambassador equate your death with the benefit of his people? Why are your enemies reaching out to corporations and foreign governments, inviting them onto Omega and working with them? What are they doing, Aria? Are they trying to establish democracy? Have I just ruined Omega's sole chance at formal government?"

"That's _absurd,"_ Aria scoffed at the foul notion.

"But what if it's _true?"_

This time, Aria's response was not so punctual. However, when her words belatedly arrived they were without the smallest loss of certainty. "It isn't," she said.

The assurance did not suffice. Tevos stared at her with wet eyes for a time, appearing mournful and angered at once, as if furious at Aria for not possessing absolute omniscience of her station as she once arrogantly claimed to, despite Tevos always knowing very well that it was impossible. She felt resentment and fear welling up in her heart, spilling over into a basin where it became the awful sense of having been deceived. And then she rose, leaving Aria behind as she ventured briskly down the hall with a hand partially covering her face.

She dammed her tears during the trip, trying to keep herself from shattering into a thousand pieces just as she had been doing since that morning without respite, and when she reached her bedroom and shut the door behind her, she found herself unable to hold herself intact any longer.

A delicate sob wrenched its way from her throat. With it came a feeling of catharsis, as if the pressure of her mounting stress had been released with a slight loosening of a valve, and it brought enough relief for her to allow another to follow in the privacy of solitude, where there was no one depending upon her for guidance or leadership. She did not have to appear impassive, unyielding, or eloquent for an audience. She only needed to survive the night in whatever fashion she was capable of. She only needed to survive herself and the looming prospect of all the damage she might have inflicted upon the galaxy if she and Aria were wrong.

_Aria._ The other asari burned in her thoughts. Perhaps she had used her all along. Perhaps Omega was crying out for democracy and Aria was systematically silencing them, culling all who spoke against her until they represented a pitiful minority. But who stood on the other side of the battlefield, Tevos asked herself? The likely appointer of her assailant, Kylris Estulius: a man who lied and mutilated and abused his office in pursuit of delusional vengeance.

If the correct path did not align with Aria's, there was no path worth treading at all, not between their opposing walls of sheer madness. If not Aria... there was nothing at all.

The possibilities putrified in her conscience, producing a distinct and familiar anguish within her chest. Tevos felt as if her heart were breaking, and that Aria was the one personally breaking it, corrupting the ambivalent but strong love she felt for her into a lie, into a grave, ruinous mistake.

Tevos pulled herself away from the closed door with as much dignity as she could salvage, dabbing her tears away with her sleeve before approaching her dresser. She wanted to sleep. She needed a reprieve from herself, from the chaos, even as her omni-tool constantly chimed with incoming messages. It was her responsibility to tend to them, she knew, but it was also her responsibility to do so while of level mind.

Just a few hours of sleep, she told herself. Just enough to recuperate back into the functionality she was known for.

While gathering her nightwear into her arms, Tevos noticed a precious gleam on top of her jewelry case, delicately scattering the soft light of her lamp. She turned her attention onto the item.

It was the necklace her mother had given her long ago, fitted with its expensive green stone and chained by silver. She presumed Aria had found it for her, and reached out to take it in hand. She was careful due to the broken chain... until she discovered that it wasn't broken at all. Every lustrous link was complete, forming a full circuit that was only interrupted by the clasp. For a moment she was vastly confused, almost doubting her own sanity as she tried to recall if she had spent the hefty sum of credits on its professional repair in the last few days, but the second passed and transitioned easily into realization.

"Oh, Aria..." she thought aloud, pooling the pendant and its chain in the center of her palm and peering down at its fragile beauty. Tevos felt her heart breaking again, but this time the fissures of pain exposed a truth: she did love Aria, and her love was not constrained to any specific department of affection as she once suspected it had been.

Tevos loved her even when she infuriated her, confounded her, made life difficult for her. She loved her even when she didn't. She loved Aria with passion, and wistfully hoped this gesture meant that Aria loved her in return, however unlikely it was. And that Tevos loved her only amplified her inner conflict to an agony which resembled being lit aflame.

There was either Aria... or no one at all.


	34. A Night for Lovers

The state of Wasea's Eclipse outpost had improved substantially since Liselle last visited. When their cab broke away from traffic ways and veered over to the barrier-enclosed yard around the business tower, she saw the ordered rows of parked vehicles with their darkly-tinted widows that seemed to devour Omega's dreary light, twin watchtowers of formidable position and profile erected in the humming perimeter's corners where snipers roosted, and further on, when they entered the main lobby all the cargo crates once furnishing the space had been relocated to lower level storage. The salarian at the front desk allowed them through upon informing him that they were from Aria; apparently Wasea was expecting several such persons for a currently unknown operation, and had been gradually receiving them over the last few hours.

Their pair rode the elevator up to the executive level, spending their brief ascent admiring how well the modern glinting interior of the lift had been thoroughly polished and cleansed of violence, now appearing gilded instead of rusted, and dazzling instead of unsettling. Overall, the Eclipse had achieved very professional and impressive work. Liselle felt as though she could've been in a luxurious mall or hotel, had there not been armed mercenaries monitoring her everywhere she went.

They were escorted into First Lieutenant Wasea's office where five other agents lacking Eclipse insignia loitered about under the watchful guard of Wasea's subordinates as Wasea herself stood behind her desk, speaking to one of her higher-ranked officers and one of Aria's helmeted operatives in tandem. She was still in a black armor undersuit, lending relief to the general atmosphere from knowing that they would not be disembarking on their mission immediately, as Wasea would be the one commanding them. A mercenary led Liselle and Daus to the group where they were instructed to wait until Wasea was ready to brief them. Liselle stole discreet glances at their faces, vaguely recognizing one asari from the day they had been assigned their units, but found the others completely unfamiliar. Daus expressed to her his wry insecurity with being turian in a predominantly asari and salarian setting, wondering aloud if he'd rouse suspicion, but Liselle alleviated his worries by pointing out that she'd seen at least two other turians in the outpost—one out in the yard receiving a cargo shipment, and one standing guard in the lobby.

Liselle turned her attention back onto Wasea for a time, watching her with unconscious dislike in her eyes. Soon, the Eclipse lieutenant began taking a cursory headcount. When the number of attendees had been ascertained she sent out a short call, spoke with her high-ranked officer again, and stepped out in front of her desk.

"All right people," she said, arresting their notice and quieting their idle chatter. "Make a line. Nice and tidy. One row, facing me." As they assembled as directed, Wasea continued while folding her hands behind her back, starting to survey what stock Aria had lent her. "For the duration of this operation you will understand that you are _my_ mercenaries now. That means you'll follow my orders, my rules, my expectations, without question. This will be a very high-risk, high-reward scheme and failure to comply may result in liquidation, etcetera, etcetera. You already know _exactly_ what you're getting into, so I shouldn't have to remind you. Aria tells me you're some of the best she owns, so you'd better deliver. Now let's get down to business. First thing I want—"

She had stopped, naturally honing in on Liselle's face. Liselle only returned her sudden expression of surprised dissatisfaction with a steely leer that firmly stated her resolve to remain there. In answer to her adamancy, Wasea unexpectedly adjourned the briefing.

"Hold the fuck up," she gave an acidic mutter. When she came to stand before Liselle she addressed her coldly, and her stormy gray eyes swirled with agitation. "What the hell are _you_ doing here?"

"Same as everyone else," was all she replied. She could feel many curious eyes upon her, but refused to allow the stares to unnerve her in front of the first lieutenant.

Wasea was frowning. She was by no means glad to see Liselle. Rather, the longer she looked upon her the further her mood soured until she stated to all occupants of the room, "Disperse. I need to talk to this one."

For an initial moment of confusion no one moved. Then, gradually, the line of operatives broke and drifted apart, returning to the furniture and withdrawing into small groups. Speculative whispers filled the air behind Liselle as she was directed to join Wasea at her desk, where they sat down across from one another in mutual discontent. The desk was new, replacing the old bullet-speckled metal one with a stronger, smoother alloy where minor sections were coated by a quality polymer sheen. And although Liselle occupied the very same chair that once chafed against her commando leathers, the material of her new light armor suit posed no appreciable resistance.

Wasea was quiet for a time, folding her hands neatly on the surface of the desk, evoking the same twisted parody of the tower's previous CEO that Liselle had identified within her on her very first visit.

"So tell me," Wasea darkly opened, enunciating with painful diligence, " _truthfully_ this time. Why are you here?"

"Like I said. I'm here for Lorhan."

"Don't treat me like an idiot. Either you tell me or I'll just ask your turian companion over there, and I don't ask gently."

Not wanting to bring any undue misfortune unto Daus, Liselle finally complied. "We know something about Lorhan that no one else does."

"Is that so?" Wasea rhetorically asked, her eyes narrowing in disdain. "So I'm to understand that this is something Aria intentionally declined to inform me about, despite the fact that it's _my_ people going in to grab him?"

She slowly shook her head. "There's no need for you to know. It won't affect you. You just need to do your job and get him."

Liselle was on the defense. She had found herself in quite the unfavorable position—while needing a viable justification for her presence, she could not afford to disclose to Wasea the secrets she had uncovered in the depths of Omega. Not when Wasea's true allegiance lied in such a gray and nebulous area. The geth hybrids had become one of the most formidable enemies Aria had ever faced, and placing that weapon into the wrong hands, especially those of the technologically adept Eclipse, might prove disastrous for Aria's syndicate if a new enemy arose weilding the same powers that had given her so much prior trouble. Wasea would just have to accept ignorance. However, it presently did not seem possible by the way she seethed.

"I'm not doing Aria's dirty work without knowing what I'm getting myself into," she asserted. "I ought to call her up right now and let her know what you're up to, what you've just said to me. I'll call the whole thing off if she presumes I'd walk into there unprepared."

"Why would she bother if she thinks you'll fail without knowing what I know?" Liselle believed what she proposed. The scenario of Aria sending Wasea inexplicably to her doom was devoid of sense. "If you're not going to make it, the only thing Aria would achieve is giving away her plans to get Lorhan."

Wasea tapped her fingers rhythmically onto the desk, processing the situation and its implications. Rather than further expressing her displeasure, she decided to unnerve and indebt the girl instead. "So, Liselle... how did it go with splendid Samesia Trakas? You reached her, didn't you?"

Liselle developed a terse look of pain, but she forced it into a scowl upon noticing Wasea's aim. "She died," she said.

"I know," Wasea said, unfazed by the news. "I'm talking about before that. Or after that. However it might have happened. Did you learn what you set out to?"

"I learned enough." With each passing word Liselle heard and issued, her jaw grew stiffer and her fists grew tighter.

"So what do you think about your father?"

"I don't have a father," Liselle immediately hissed in reply, disquieted by the hatred burgeoning in her chest like a cloud of fire and smoke, but not discounting its existence. "I never did."

An admittedly surprised raise of brows, along with their streaks of bright angry tattooed red, was her answer. "Well, well. Listen to how _bitter_ you've become. Did Omega finally wake you up? Make you realize what the world's about?" At Liselle's refusal to respond, Wasea insouciantly disregarded that tangent without any disappointment. "Go home, Liselle," she dismissed her. "You don't belong here. You don't belong on a mission like this. You'll just fuck it up or wind up dead."

"Aria asked for available operatives to report to you," Liselle said. The rigid anger in her voice never dissipated. "So here I am."

"Then I'll just let her know where you are." To supplement her belittling threat Wasea brought up her omni-tool and began searching through her contacts, but Liselle didn't even flinch. The look the maiden kept in her eyes was one of inexorable determination, brooding and threatening and looming like something she'd only seen once before... in Aria. There was something frightfully emergent in Liselle, something that gave Wasea severe pause as a result of a reflex learned from witnessing its original source.

"If you tell her where I am," said Liselle, "I'll tell her what _you_ did."

Wasea's initial expression of intrigue malformed into a glare. If she ever told Aria about the information Wasea had given her, sending her sweet innocent daughter into Tuhi where she was made a killer and almost perished in the same day, where secrets upon horrid secrets had lied waiting just for Liselle in Samesia's vault... Aria would kill her. She truly would, Wasea knew. And so she reasonably stood down out of fear.

The glow of the omni-tool faded. "All right, Liselle," Wasea said. There was an edge in her voice that both unsettled the maiden and inflated her pride at seeing her recoil from the blackmail. "If you really crave getting your hands bloody—because you _will_ if you head in with us—I won't prevent you from doing so."

It was curious to Liselle that Wasea hadn't retaliated by trying to use the bottle of wine as her own leverage. That meant Wasea had become aware of it being a counterfeit, thus voiding any attempt at self-protection. Abruptly, Liselle realized she had the lieutenant in checkmate. Indefinitely.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Tevos had slowly drawn away from her dresser and toward her bed, perching herself at its edge as she continued to gaze sentimentally at her necklace and its recent, unexpected reparation. Her fingertips grazed the gemstone, its surface cool to her touch and seemingly incapable of capturing and returning the warmth of her hand.

The tide of tears threatening to depart her had been stemmed, and those few that had managed to escape along the curves of her cheeks were wiped away. A bone-deep sense of widespread enervation was all that remained of her despair, afflicting her with an energy-draining ache that resembled a fever's. She loosely folded one hand around her waist and sighed away a modest amount of tension, however she promptly inhaled it again when a knock on her bedroom door sounded. Aria let herself in without permitting Tevos the time to respond, not having meant her knock as a request for permission, but as an announcement of her arrival and indisputable presence. There Aria stood in the doorway for a time, watching her with an enigma of an expression, and refraining from weighing the air between them with unnecessary words. She allowed Tevos to break the silence first. While Aria had a rather grating habit of competing for the last word, she had never overly concerned herself with the sense of authority begotten from opening the conversation. Another grating habit, Tevos reminded herself, that she'd grown irrationally, yet irreversibly attached to.

Tevos did not prefer to speak first, but she had something to ask, and therefore felt obligated to proceed. "Why did you do this?" she asked Aria, still sounding brittle.

Aria held her head at an aloof, relaxed cant. "Do what?"

"This," Tevos presented her hand, showing Aria the gleaming necklace in her palm. "Why would you do this for me?"

"I had time to kill," said Aria. She shrugged without concern.

"Money too, apparently." Tevos brought her attention back down to her hand, fondling the smooth, flush links with her thumb.

Aria approached her, seating herself at Tevos's side. "Oh, it wasn't that expensive," she offhandedly claimed.

Although Tevos permitted her to remain near, she did not meet her eyes, disdaining what Aria might think if there still lasted evidence that she had been crying, even very briefly. But as always, it was painfully likely that she'd already noticed, whether from her attempts to conceal her face, or judging by how her voice had delicately wavered when she first addressed her. That suspicion was reinforced tenfold when Aria extended an arm around her back and wrapped about her waist, asserting herself into an intimate position where she could more easily relieve Tevos of her swarming worries. Tevos could feel her hand at her hip; steady, assuringly firm, and unusually gentle all at once. She urged her closer, possessing her attention, if Aria could not possess Tevos herself.

"Tevos," she said, "there is no pro-government force on Omega. There are only agents acting on the _behalf_ of governments, and if they've won the opinion of anyone there, it was through propaganda and manipulation. The only future Omega has with ideologues like Estulius at the helm would be little more than a prison station or a military launchpad."

By resurrecting the topic, Aria had caused Tevos to reflexively stiffen against her.

"You're doing the right thing," Aria insisted. "There's nothing else to say. _That_ is the situation."

Tevos's silence conveyed her lingering uncertainty. For a time she did not reply. Her fingers had protectively closed around her necklace and her eyes were fixed without conscious subject on her lap.

She had finally isolated the reason why being near Aria had felt so strange tonight. She had always known what Aria was, what she did, from the very first day she researched her. Seeing it all unfold before her eyes, however, was a different experience entirely. Aria had been such wonderful company whenever they reserved time for themselves. She was intelligent, attractive, entertaining, a proficient bedfellow, and she had shown Tevos affection, disregarding its magnitude or forms of arrival. But most importantly, she had presented herself to Tevos as someone she could, and _did_ , grow to love. And she'd achieved this in the near-absence of a vital component of herself: the ruthless crime lord who killed unremittingly whenever it suited the circumstance. It was astonishing how thoroughly Aria could conceal herself without resorting to dishonesty.

At last Tevos spoke, solemn, troubled and honest, "I watched you kill someone with your bare hands today." She sounded as though it were a tragedy whose prevention was outside their control, destined to occur regardless of their preference or level of preparation.

Aria conceded almost ruefully, "I know, sweetheart. But do you know why I did it?" Her words were leaden with soothing reassurance, stroking against her nerves like fine velvet. Only coarser logic saved Tevos from complete susceptibility, who afforded her no guesses. Aria further lowered her voice, softly and profoundly answering beside her head. "I lost my temper when he hit you. You see, Tevos... You and I, we have a very particular, unique relationship. I don't lose my temper easily, and I don't give up viable hostages just for fun. I did it because you're important to me."

"Important to you? Or valuable to you?" Tevos inquired, exercising a reasonable amount of wariness.

"I didn't say valuable. I said important."

"Is that meant in consolation? That you killed for me? Is that supposed to be sweet?"

"It's supposed to be true. Whether it's sweet, or whether that makes me monstrous, is completely up to you."

Tevos gave a curt sigh and met Aria's eyes for the first time since she sat down with her. "It's _not_ up to me, Aria," she said. "You can't shed culpability by claiming that the essence of your actions is up to someone else's interpretation. And whether or not I find you worthy of my liking is something you alone influence."

Aria listened attentively, but Tevos's rebuke hadn't dented her complacency in the slightest. She had absorbed her words and their meaning, considered them, and filed them away without worry. Her typical impassiveness made Tevos feel as though her concerns had been reflected off the surface of a mirror and back into herself, even if it wasn't likely to be Aria's intention. Tevos found herself overcome by the peculiar sense that she had just criticized them both instead of Aria alone, and perhaps she had. Perhaps all her qualms stemmed from somewhere personal, from an internalized hatred of what she stowed away during her time thus far in office, like the perpetual packing of a closet, adding more and more secrets to the density until the doorframe strained to grossly warped angles. How dare Aria keep her criminal profile brazenly exposed, drawing horror and odium wherever she ventured? Did she not know the custom of keeping one's controversial affairs hidden? Did she have no shame? Was she even aware that there was a thing called shame?

When Tevos's mind wandered and fell into aimless automation she immersed herself in memories of Aria's bloodied fists, her anger, her complete and instantaneous transformation into a brutal killing machine. She hadn't meant for Tevos to witness that side of her so vividly. It hurt her appeal. It hurt the image Aria had diligently cultivated over weeks: unquestionably powerful and capable, but always tame enough for the councilor's stomach. So Aria was being sweet, naturally, to mitigate the mistake she had made, trying to mend Tevos's perception of her and regain her trust and comfort. Tevos was well aware of Aria's aim. She could hide very little from her now.

So Aria had killed for her, she iterated to herself. _Had_ killed for her, and from what she gathered from Aria's lack of remorse, _would_ kill for her again. Tevos morbidly acknowledged that she'd do the same, and possibly had already done so. After all, who could confidently say that Tevos did not have blood on her hands after expressly authorizing _any_ course of action which would contribute to the success of the objectives Tevos had burdened her special agents with? Indeed, just who was monstrous here, Tevos pondered, knowing that she too would end lives for Aria?

Once long ago, Aria had accused her of being a murderer just as others accused Aria. Now more than ever before, Tevos felt truth seeping out of that past claim like ancient tar, trapping her and sealing her into the same category as the asari beside her. But they would never be same, she routinely tried to tell herself. Semantics and fickle cultural perception ensured that she was correct. When she leaned into Aria their temples gently met in reciprocation of closeness, despite the grief pervading her next statement to her.

"This is what you always do, Aria," Tevos quietly said. "When someone sees something they weren't meant to, you blur the lines and pose the question of whether it was even bad at all. I've always put it out of my mind—all the things you do. I don't want to have to confront any of it. I avoid it, desperately. I do. But I suppose I never want to confront myself either, and admit that I'm not so dissimilar. How do we differ, Aria? What logic endows me with the right to pass judgement? Is the discrepancy found in motivation, in mode, in permission? And at the end of the day, do those things even matter? Maybe I've killed for you too. And maybe I don't regret it at all." She paused for a long time, but Aria never took advantage of her silence. Aria remained solely focused on Tevos's line of thought, waiting to see where it ultimately led. "But that doesn't mean I'm without morals and principles," continued Tevos. "It doesn't mean I'm without a sense of duty and responsibility to the greater good. If we're wrong, Aria... I don't know what I'll do."

"I've already told you," said Aria, "We're _not_ wrong. You don't understand the Terminus Systems like I do. We're the last major bastion of freedom in the galaxy, and the people there will _die in droves_ to keep it that way. By helping me, you're actually saving lives. We're both getting what we want."

Tevos prayed what she said was true. She lifted her arm to lightly dab at her eyes with her sleeve, wiping away the last remnants of her distress since overcoming the worst of it. Once she was finished she sought conversation with Aria again, in time to hear her wryly remark, "Every other time I come here, I make you cry."

Tevos managed to expel a short breath of laughter, having detected the terribly faint tone of joking in Aria's voice. "I'm not normally this teary," she explained in her own defense. "These last several weeks haven't exactly been the easiest of my life. I've not been just sleeping with you, Aria. Adversity has been our third bedmate since the very beginning."

Aria smiled. "She's been my mistress ever since I can remember. I think you'll eventually become attached to her company, particularly how hard and often she fucks you."

A harmless shove was applied to Aria as a penalty for being crude, but she had nevertheless amused Tevos. The strange uneasiness that seemed to radiate from Aria's presence, echoing the lurid scenes of the day, had begun to diminish.

As time passed without any words exchanged between them, Tevos somberly reflected on the fact that as soon as Aria left in the morning, she would immediately begin to miss her and yearn to be with her again. At that moment Tevos seriously contemplated admitting to Aria that she loved her, but quickly decided against it. She didn't know how Aria might react. If she didn't feel the same, Tevos feared the rejection would severely pain her. And if Aria _did_ perchance feel the same... Tevos wasn't sure how in the universe she would handle it, much less _comprehend_ it. Either way, she would be unleashing a new and unpredictable variable into their relationship, whose consequences were frightful simply by being unknown. Just as wistful apprehension began to fill her chest and limbs, Aria disengaged herself from Tevos and rose, saying as she did, "I'm leaving first thing in the morning."

Tevos allowed Aria's arm to slip away from her waist, forfeiting her proximity while Aria ventured over to her closet. Curiously she watched as Aria scanned her shelves.

"But for tonight," Aria resumed, "I'm not entrusting you to your bumbling security force. I'm staying whether you like it or not. Even if..." She paused to retrieve something, then exhaled with some frustrated admittance upon finding self-relegation a difficult feat. "Even if my accommodations have to be a couch, or the floor. I've made larger and much less glamorous sacrifices before." When Aria came back into view, Tevos was able to identify what Aria had taken from her closet: an armful of spare sheets, clean and folded neatly until Aria let them fall to the floor in a heap to better establish her point. She was incontrovertibly stern with her decision, leaving no opportunity for Tevos to object or dissuade her.

For a moment Tevos sat processing Aria's declaration, her gaze alternating between the adamancy in her face and the heap of sheets on the floor, before standing and approaching her. Still she held her repaired necklace in a loosely-clenched fist, even as she leaned down to begin gathering up the sheets spilt there and refolding them.

"You're not sleeping on the floor," she told Aria. Tevos glanced in her direction to unite their lines of sight, silently communicating her own adamancy involving one truth which unfurled to greet them: there was no turning back now. They were entangled with one another through shared grief and interdependence to the extent that only grave circumstances could unwind them, but until such a dreaded day reared its head Aria had become and remained _part_ of her, and she of Aria, through everything both good and ill until they had interred all their troubles at last.

As they were now, Tevos could hardly bear the notion of Aria spending the night outside her bed. It wasn't where she belonged, not outside her reach, not where she couldn't touch her, not where slipping inside her mind and body was an impossibility.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Liselle and the other mercenaries Aria had lent Wasea were taken to the basement level, refurbished into an armory where gear, weapons, and technical equipment lined shelves and filled the interiors of lockers, all sealed shut and protected by hefty security mechanisms and programs. Above their heads gleamed the small globular lenses of cameras, unblinking and tirelessly monitoring the wealth of the Eclipse.

Wasea and several of her underlings accompanied them to aid in properly outfitting their temporary recruits in Eclipse armor. Liselle, along with the other two asari of their group, were segregated away to the vaults and cases of armor tailored to their body type. Their measurements were taken and assigned to specific sizes for body suits and the enclosing yellow shells. To Liselle's chagrin she found herself once again quite overtly the smallest of her demographic, and the disparity was only amplified by the fact that one accompanying asari was noticeably more muscular than average, while the other was formidably tall. Despite their widely varying physiology each were successfully matched to a suit of armor bearing the notorious Eclipse insignia, and when Liselle had donned her own assigned armor she felt personally transformed by it. Fortunately, helmets were distributed after the body armor. There was no longer any need for them to approach Wasea with that particular accommodation.

An assault rifle was suddenly deposited in her arms almost immediately after she received her helmet. Liselle stowed it away on the magnetic rack running along her back but heavily doubted that she'd ever use it in place of her submachine gun—on every previous occasion when she'd held a rifle of any model or manufacturer they always felt too unwieldily in her hands, and most importantly, they impeded her ability to effectively utilize her biotics, since she was novice and still required gestures to augment her control.

Every so often she would catch a glimpse of Wasea prowling and pacing between the rows of lockers with her hands severely placed on her hips, keeping watch over the small groups as they acclimated to their new equipment. She didn't trust them. That much was evident to Liselle, and the wary climate Aria's people were emanating in return suggested that they didn't trust Wasea either.

Liselle didn't particularly blame either party. They both had very good reasons for being cynical—now that Wasea knew about Aria concealing some tidbit of information from her she was doubly on guard, and as for Aria's mercenaries being in the heart of what could become a very hostile hive at the whim of their commanders was putting them well on edge. Not even Liselle was able dissociate from the situation, for she half-expected Wasea to spring some traitorous trap halfway into the operation. At least with Liselle present it spontaneously became less likely. It was one thing to betray Aria, and entirely another to drag Liselle into the fire.

Once Wasea had deemed them adequately familiar with their resources, she had them file into another line for briefing. Two of her officers flanked her as she explicated the next few days to the assemblage of mercenaries. Today they would leave their equipment in individual lockers and retrieve it the next morning, on the day of the mission. It was to be understood that when they met with Drialus Lorhan the following afternoon, it would be under the pretense of business. They would be playing the role of a organization turning their back on Aria T'Loak to pursue a relationship with Lorhan, whose trade connections would surely thrust the Eclipse into the new age of organized crime.

Every mercenary was to remain effectively mute and motionless throughout the negotiations until the time was right. When they were given the corresponding signal they would quickly dispatch Lorhan's immediate guard, incapacitate their targeted magnate, and follow the lead of Eclipse veterans who were well-trained in the art of absconding. Windows would be drilled through cleanly, and from these apertures they would rappel down the side of the building with their precious cargo until their skycars arrived to receive them.

The speed at which this operation would be carried out was vital to its success, Wasea had told them. For the team carrying Lorhan there would be plentiful cover fire and coordinated diversion, but the longer they took, the more lives would be lost, and the probability of escape would rapidly dwindle. They needed to be swift, focused, and most imperatively, organized. To ensure synchronization of orders, the element of surprise, and the reduction of interception chance, Wasea sent a mass message to their omni-tools. The attachment contained a list of commands, each of which were associated with a certain auditory tone embedded in every individual command as an accurate example of how it would sound to them. These tones would replace Wasea's directive since she would be in Lorhan's company along with Captain Asana and their escort, and the orders would be issued remotely by one of Wasea's most trusted officers, who had been thoroughly trained to react to every conceivable twist of circumstance in accordance with her superior's wishes. Over the next day they were to memorize these tones, or quite morbidly risk perishing in the inevitable confusion if they were unable to interpret the scarce source of guidance.

They were not to be concerned with any other issue that did not involve acting on orders. Their purpose was Aria's sense of security and nothing more. They had no claims to authority or information, no freedom to question or criticize. Aria's mercenaries were to merely watch and participate as if they were just another typical company of Eclipse peons.

Liselle however had a different perspective on her own level of entitlement. While the other mercs shed their armor and began storing the suits in their designated lockers, she patiently waited for the opportune moment to isolate and approach Wasea, who deeply frowned at seeing Aria's conditioned offspring stride up to her still wearing the emblems of the only organization to which she was arguably loyal.

"What?" she demanded.

The girl met her disdain with metallic resolve. "What were you offered?" she asked, aiming to understand the situation better and consequently protect Aria from the potential of Eclipse subterfuge. Liselle still had the upper hand. It was wise not to squander it.

For a few seconds Wasea almost appeared amused by her capitalizing. "Offered?"

"What do you get at the end of all this?" Liselle elaborated. "Must have been something really worthwhile."

The lieutenant calmly folded her arms over her chest and stared into Liselle's determined blue eyes. "And why are you concerned with this?"

"I need to know if you intend to see this through."

She saw her purpose. "A gift basket," Wasea replied with a nonchalant shrug.

"A _gift basket?_ What does that even mean?"

"Listen closely, Liselle. I've not met a single merc in my life who wasn't interested in getting ahead. Aria didn't just come to me, she came to Captain Asana too with her proposition. And she made offers to _both_ of us—offers that'll benefit the Eclipse in the long run. Lorhan's demise is imminent with Aria after him. It'd be suicide to take his side at a time like this. All you need to worry about at this point is whether the information you're withholding will get us all killed." Her final statement was laden with enmity.

They parted in discontent. Despite her claims Liselle could not bring herself to trust her. Wasea was such a hostile, oppressive figure whom Liselle had recently come to intensely resent. Therefore it was very much possible that the degree of her mistrust stemmed from bias, as outrageous as it sounded. Dabbling in a bit of introspection while storing her armor revealed to Liselle that she actually might've _wanted_ to reveal traitorous intent in Wasea, just to condemn her and send Aria after her. She could not afford to bring such latent motives into Lorhan's tower, not while she was expected to follow Wasea's orders. One misplaced grudge could jeopardize the entire mission.

Liselle regrouped with Daus when prepackaged meals were handed out to them. They seemed a half-hearted gesture of hospitality, but a rather back-handed one as well once the ingredients and affiliated producer were observed. The pair, along with their fellow mercenaries, ate in the small quarters afforded them: a repurposed storage room cramped with bunk beds and few other notable features. She and her turian companion staked their space on a ground-level bed where they ate their meals sitting upon the thin mattress as if it were a couch, chewing quietly while the other operatives did the same, some milling around with their food in hand, some exiting the quarters to walk about the premises despite the high likelihood of their wandering displeasing the Eclipse.

Halfway through her brown-beige sandwich of nondescript contents Liselle felt the first pangs of a stomach ache brought on by consuming two nutritionally-challenged helpings of street food in one day. She faced the dilemma of whether or not to finish, since the following day would likely demand copious biotic activity, but then again the possibility of becoming ill during the night encroached upon her, which might've effectively been just as bad as not having eaten anything at all. Liselle would've offered Daus her leftovers if they had been of the dextro-safe variety, but instead gave them away to a salarian who claimed to have not eaten for almost a day as a result of his unit's prolonged stakeout in the Kima District.

They contacted Rasma to inform her of their status and request knowledge of hers. She replied promptly, explaining that cooperation with the quarians had considerably improved since they left. They'd uncovered more in their records about Nazara's development, perhaps more than Rasma ever needed or wanted to know, but all data was being copied and periodically sent to Aria regardless of apparent relevancy. Rasma could not help but iterate her discomfort around Nazara. She reported that Nazara had been persistently, yet nonetheless politely requesting to speak with Aria T'Loak in person—a privilege that was denied her for obvious reasons, at least until they obtained a better understanding of what Nazara was capable of. And asking _why_ she desired to see Aria only yielded silence, which further contributed to Rasma's sense of disquiet and suspicion.

Liselle and Daus spent what remained of the evening seated on the lower bunk bed watching vids on their omni-tools, starting with the tail-end of a live broadcast—something about a kidnapped ambassador on the Citadel; they weren't much interested—and quickly switching to more entertaining vids about stunts gone awry, peculiar happenings, and cooking tutorials as if in defiance of the so-called sustenance they had consumed earlier. As time went on their selections steadily devolved into humor when they began exchanging their favorite vids in which clever pranks were executed and general disaster struck. Soon they'd succumbed to laughter.

The other mercenaries in the vicinity didn't find their mirth contagious. If anything the pair only broadcasted their relative immaturity. While Daus had already assumed command over his own unit early in his second decade of life, and while Liselle was more than twice his numeric age, it was remarkable that life on Omega had not affected them to the point where their youth became irretrievably buried beneath mountains of violence and grit. They still laughed at absurdity, at crude vulgarity, and there was no one and nothing to stop them.

A mercenary finally told them to shut up after they'd watched a short vid where a volus pushed his other volus friend down into an ascending escalator, causing the poor rounded individual to become suspended in a cycle of perpetual tumbling until a good samaritan restored his footing. The two retired to bed once their fun was over. Liselle climbed into the top bunk, drew the thin blanket over herself, but spent ample time staring at the smooth ceiling with a blankness of mind.

Gradually the other mercenaries settled in for rest, and the room quieted save for the occasional nocturnal variant of breathing. Daus hissed at her to get her attention from where he lay on the bottom bunk.

"Hey," he whispered. "Liselle."

She shifted beneath her blanket, rolling over onto her side where she scooted closer to the edge of her bunk. "What?" she replied in an equally hushed volume.

"Earlier you were speaking with Wasea a couple times. She didn't look too happy. Is everything all right?"

"Yeah," she said. "I... She probably just always looks that way. She wanted to know a few things and since we've spoken before she singled me out."

"Hope so," said Daus. "Shit's about to get crazy, after we get Lorhan. His people are going to declare war, I know it. They're going to try to get him back."

"I think Aria's prepared. Maybe she'll take all his assets and offer to distribute them among his forces. Maybe there won't be a war at all if they only want to get paid."

"That would do it," Daus agreed. "I don't think Lorhan's an ideas type of guy. He's a money type of guy. Once the well's dry his mercs should migrate to the next one over. Aria."

Silence persisted between them for several minutes before Daus spoke up again.

"Hey, so... I have one more thing to ask. If everything goes well, if we get Lorhan and Aria puts the brakes on another war, if we figure out everything about Nazara and the quarians and put a stop to this mess... We should go somewhere sometime. Get some more drinks. Maybe some good food."

Liselle's brow furrowed at the way Daus sounded as though it were a serious request. Of course she'd like to go. They'd become friends after all, and they'd been out before. What made this time any different?

At her silence he added, "I mean, it's completely fine if you think you'd be too busy or something. I'm cool with that. I just think you're pretty, uh, swell. What do you think?"

Realization hit her with the force of an inbound skycar. So _that_ was what Daus had been getting at. Liselle's first instinct was one of flustered panic from never having been asked such a thing before. Several years ago her mother had shared basic advice with her, perhaps in preparation for the day when Liselle moved out and was officially independent. Aria had told her to only give her time away to people who she genuinely enjoyed, to never feel indebted to someone trying to win her affection through gifts, and to react to all forms of intrusive, unwanted attention or actions with threats, violence, or by informing Aria of the problem, who would presumably resolve the situation using nothing short of murder. But Aria had never spoken about how to behave when Liselle wasn't sure of what to do.

Liselle liked Daus and found him to be good company, but she had never perceived him as a candidate for a deeper relationship. In retrospect she couldn't name anyone who had caught her interest that way, after excluding the occasional passerby or dancer who drew her gaze for longer than usual or made her blush. But it was exciting, to know that someone viewed her in that specific light, that someone thought of her often enough to ask her out to drinks and dinner. It made her feel attractive in a way she hadn't experienced before.

Maybe she'd start to like Daus in that way. Maybe she wouldn't. There was no reliable way for her to preemptively tell what would become of them, but the opportunity was too exhilarating and sacred in its novelty to pass up.

"We can do that," she told him.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Some time during the smallest hours of the night, Tevos stirred lightly and was awake; blearily as the haze of her restless dreams drained away from her mind and slowly replenished her provision of coherent sense. She cursed her luck. Not only had she regained consciousness hours before the artificial Presidium dawn, but she had also required an obscene amount of time to fall asleep in the first place, even when she had been so completely permeated by exhaustion. Preparing for bed had been a begrudging ordeal in itself. She'd resolutely fought the urge to collapse unceremoniously onto her mattress every step of the way, from organizing her clothes and devices for the following work day, to pouring herself a warm drink to calm the tension in her middle, and to her ritual washing. She had even retired to bed much earlier than what her schedule typically ordained, but it had all been for naught.

Tevos simply could not achieve peace no matter what she attempted, not while countless memories of violence and deception swirled about her head in a terrible gale of racing thought and apprehension. For a time Tevos proposed to herself potential remedies: perhaps mildly warming a blanket and wrapping it about her chest, or investing in the next chapter of a book she had abandoned reading several weeks ago until she nodded off again, or even a placid educational or travel spotlight program with the volume kept almost inaudibly low to lull her away. Under normal circumstances any of those measures would have sufficed, but tonight Tevos was aptly dubious of their efficacy.

While shifting beneath the sheets in search of comfort, Tevos noticed something unusual, something she experienced so seldom now that it nearly caused her to startle. There was a pressure about her waist, neither constricting or particularly disagreeable, but somewhat lax and heedlessly placed there. Sometime during the night Aria had draped an arm around her and tucked her hand into her clothes where it had remained, presently instilling within Tevos a surreal sense of confusion and even alarm brought on by the simple outlandishness of the gesture. Questions rapidly multiplied in her head. Was it intentional? Was Tevos actually still asleep and merely hallucinating it?

No matter the reality, Tevos found distasteful humor in the fact that it took a near-death experience for Aria to allow the depth of her attachment to physically manifest. Maybe Aria too had been visited by unbidden dreams about the bloodshed in the councilor's office earlier that day, unsettling her enough to drive her arm forward protectively and possessively around the councilor. There could be no other explanation save for the one citing a lack of consciousness. While they had grown quite close as of late, Tevos hadn't thought their relationship evolved enough to permit such personal affection.

Tevos confessed to herself that she did not know what to do, whether or not to move and risk disturbing Aria, which might have led to her withdrawing her limb, and then the moment would be lost, possibly forever. Her hand drifted to Aria's wrist where she gently wrapped her fingers around it, as if to concur with the placement of her arm and keep it as it was, unmindful of how Aria might react to encouragement. It was lovely, how warm, strong, yet appropriately soft Aria felt. She could smell her perfume, or lotion—Tevos wasn't sure what product it belonged to, but the familiar dusky and exotic scents Aria preferred were present for her to secretly relish.

"Can't sleep?"

Just as Tevos had nearly finished settling into the comforts of her sheets and Aria herself, she heard her quietly speak but did not act upon her urge to instantly release Aria's wrist, fearing the embarrassment it would truthfully convey. However, Aria did not seem to be in any hurry to retrieve her arm from her suggestive grip.

"No," Tevos ruefully replied.

Neither of them endeavored to readjust their positions. Minutes passed and they remained as they were, until Tevos confessed to Aria, "I'm not sure I know what's happening anymore. But I need to do something about it."

"About what? Estulius?"

"Yes."

"So you _do_ believe me when I say he organized what happened today?"

Tevos audibly sighed. "I don't know, Aria. But I certainly can't afford to discount it as a possibility."

"Let me tell you why I think it was him. This morning, when I received an update from my operatives on Omega, they introduced something unexpected. Something that changed the game. They found another geth-creature, like what happened to your Spectre. And they also found the group who made her that way."

Tevos turned her head out of surprise, not nearly enough to see Aria behind her, but enough so that the gesture expressed the extent of her interest.

"They're exiled quarians, come to Omega with their geth parts where no law can interfere with their apparent research and development of a cyber warfare weapon. As I understand it, it's meant to be a geth-organic hybrid capable of tapping into the geth consensus but not at the cost of assimilation. These quarians seem to believe that their hybrids will be able to infiltrate and override priorities from the inside, eventually leading to the fracturing and destruction of the geth. It's a far-fetched plan to say the least, but from what Rasma Visiom tells me, the basics of their project have been successful and there only remains the problem of communication range and the degree of influence their hybrid is capable of."

"But why attack you," inquired Tevos, "when their enemy is the geth?"

"Because Lorhan got to them," Aria answered with bitterness. "He _commissioned_ Olat Dar'nerah and Neora Sarthis, and lied about his intentions for them. Turns out the quarians also made a deal with Parem Igrahal as well, which explained why she was hiding a patient from me. She provides care for their geth hybrid and covers all pertinent expenses in exchange for access to their medical research. Igrahal is not my enemy. She has never been my enemy. My only qualm with her has been her reluctance to take up arms alongside me. She doesn't like expending her resources unless directly attacked. But I know her well, and if she finds out that her supposedly confidential research is being shared with Lorhan on the side, she's going to set out to protect her property. And what better way to take down a competitor than to finally ally with me against him?"

Realization crept into Tevos. "You'd be almost doubling your reach and assets."

"Precisely. And do you recall what I said about the geth-creature, how it can essentially spy on other geth within a certain range, and communicate with them at will?"

"Yes..."

"Lorhan has geth-based implants and prosthetics. He's been sharing information with the geth-creature all along. Now that he knows I've found him out, and Igrahal's involvement in this too, he's accurately realized that I'll be after him with Igrahal at my side. So who, naturally, does he immediately call for aid? Kylris Estulius."

"But how does that follow? Why am _I_ targeted as a result?"

"He wanted to scare you," said Aria. "Somehow Estulius has become aware of our alliance, presumably sometime before Drialus Lorhan warned him that he'd been compromised. So Estulius panics because it's his neck on the line too, and he lashes out recklessly and drastically. Countless desperate batarians have been lobbying in the Embassies, flooding every relevant petition and pounding on the doors of politicians at every chance they can get. At this point, how hard is it to pick one up and feed him lies, nurture his anger? Estulius is trying to make you abandon your efforts. He suspects you'll decide that this isn't worth it, that you'd rather drop the whole mission out of self-preservation. But you're not their only target. Estulius and Lorhan have been making more enemies—faster than they anticipated—and I think deflecting fault onto batarian radicalism and Asari High Command corruption is just one big last fuck-you before the hammer comes down hard. Taking you out was a shot in the dark, but if they had gotten lucky, it would've been just another advantage point for Estulius and company. Unfortunately for them, in their rashness they showed their entire hand. I know who my allies are now. They have nothing left to hide from me."

The amount of chilling intensity in Aria's voice was accordingly reflected in the way her arm about Tevos had stiffened and grown almost unkind with lust of a different type; the lust for violence and retribution. She rubbed her thumb against her wrist a few times to remind her of its placement, and Aria relaxed the limb. "I might have an idea," Tevos thoughtfully chimed, "about how to bring Estulius to heel. I'm going to need help, however, from several people. You included."

"Tell me," Aria said without delay, ready to meet Tevos's request.

"I need records. Implicating evidence—trade manifests, offshore accounts, transactions, correspondences... I need you to procure everything you can from Drialus Lorhan once he's in your custody. Everything that links him to Estulius. I'm going to build a body of evidence that no court could ever refute."

"I can do that. I'll paper trail him all the way to hell if it'll ruin his life."

Nothing else was said for a long time as they both tacitly decided to try sleeping again. But more than once did Tevos hear Aria lightly shift behind her, and they occasionally brushed their legs together while searching for the position most conducive to rest. As with Tevos, she could not seem to settle into it. Eventually Tevos decided to end their fruitless fussing and flailing against insomnia, escaped from Aria's lax hold, and sat upright. After receiving Aria's assurance that it would not disturb her, she decided to stream some mundane program, presuming boredom—among all other things—to be most effective at tiring her into sleep.

For nearly an hour Tevos endured a program following a salarian guide through a rainforest on Sur'Kesh, who regularly pointed out and described the indigenous flora and small amphibious fauna along the trail. The ambience was calm and regular while the pictured frames teeming with glistening foliage bathed Tevos's bedroom in a temperate, vital green. Aria was possessed by just enough curiosity to lift her head, turn, and rest her cheek on Tevos's thigh where she could better view the projected program. Tevos welcomed her new position with a tender hand lain on Aria's upper back where she began to slowly massage her, at last finding herself at peace and wanting to share with Aria her unexpected tranquility.

Tevos's ingrained customs of social conduct told her that solemnity would have been the most appropriate attitude on this evening. But she questioned herself, why could it not instead be overwhelming giddiness from having survived another day together? Why spend every precious fleeting moment before the day when Aria left her again mourning their ill luck while ignoring their remarkably _good_ luck in successfully weathering their misfortune with dignity? There was already far too much grief encumbering them, sabotaging their livelihoods and outlooks. A victory must be a victory, she thought. All of which were worthy of celebration, however small or unusual.

Nothing would take Aria from her tonight, no force external or internal. Whatever the next day might bode, Aria was _hers_ right now, for as long as she remained in her bed and not beckoned away to virulent Omega. She felt utterly effusive.

With her philosophy in mind she proceeded to stroke Aria affectionately and paid benevolent mind to areas and applications of pressure that best relieved points of tension in her flesh. Aria closed her eyes and quietly hummed as pleasure seeped into her muscles and sweetly filled them, finding the attention a much more worthy distraction than the program, which Tevos had nearly muted in similarly shifting interest. Tevos was of the mindset that if she was to ultimately fail at sleeping that night, at the very least she might have helped Aria rest. She deserved rest, and would likely be in great need of a reserve of it in the near future. Lovingly she slipped her hand beneath the hem of her shirt to directly acquaint their skin, and through her fingertips Tevos grazed Aria with the very fringe of a meld to offer her a soothing mist of positive, pacifying emotion. Her body seemed to give way and relax beneath Tevos's hand and the gentle pressure of her mind.

Only several minutes of generous care passed before Aria shut her eyes and calmed her breathing into silent steadiness. Tevos gradually withdrew her conscience from Aria's as she slipped further into sleep, lifting from her mind the first delicate fabric of a forming dream at the instant she returned to her singular identity. Just once did Tevos hear Aria deeply inhale as she was suddenly roused by an unseen cause, but Tevos's sure and soothing touch eased her back into a sound sleep that was not interrupted again.

She turned off the program, reclined against her backrest of pillows, and covered them both with her white sheets while refraining from moving excessively as to not disturb Aria. Tevos spent her last several minutes awake admiring how peaceful and inert Aria looked as she dozed on her lap, wholly trustful of her surroundings and of Tevos herself. A strange sensation arose in her stomach, like a leap of joy or excitement, felt at the reality of her situation. She almost couldn't believe how far they'd come, from a place of instability and mutual loathing, to tentative allies united for their own interests, to bedmates who could drink and laugh together as well as touch one another intimately and blissfully.

Tevos dared wonder how an outside perspective might have beheld them now, someone who had been present for their public forum on Thessia or someone from within the Embassies, who knew nothing of their relationship besides the assumption that they still despised one another and only maintained contact out of necessity. Seeing them as they were presently would have been completely outlandish and disorienting, like witnessing the design of another universe of inverted polarization. Maybe the hypothetical onlooker would be filled with unbecoming envy at the sight, that Tevos had tamed and assuaged Omega's notorious Queen insofar as peace was concerned, a feat unheard of and scoffed at throughout all the ages their territories stood at bitter odds. Or maybe they'd viciously revile her for it, simply due to the fact that she, a highly visible and venerated leader of asari society, adored and lied with such an egregious, irredeemable character. At least, that was the interpretation _they_ would imprison Aria within.

It was of little wonder why all past attempts at communication between Council representatives and the controllers of Omega always immediately went south, oftentimes embarrassingly. How could any civil discussion take place when both sides were convinced of the other's inferiority or illegitimacy? They'd been doomed from the start, but not any longer now that Tevos and Aria composed the forum. They were reasonable, she thought. They respected one another, liked one another, rose to the defense of one another. Tevos brimmed with a fulfilling sense of pride as she stroked her fingertips against Aria's shoulder blades, pondering how long they'd be together and indulgently speculating about the future as her rationality was further dissolved by exhaustion.

Tevos soon fell asleep reclined against her pillows with her hand solicitously resting on Aria's back, held in repose by her closeness.


	35. Captain Wasea

Aria had kissed her when she left that morning. Given how close they'd become as of late, it shouldn't have surprised Tevos as much as it did. They'd kissed on numerous occasions without much abashment, and without allowing stigmas of affection to corrupt delights provided by the provocative contact of skin against skin, lips against lips. Tevos would kiss Aria simply because she spontaneously desired to, and Aria did as well for similar reasons. They'd never before self-imposed the need for justification, so why, Tevos had asked herself, did this particular instance seem so singular and worthy of special dissection?

The answer only arrived well after Aria had left, when Tevos finally seated herself in her office and escaped the encaging focus of her personal security, who had been operating on highest alert for almost a full day cycle. Recalling the way Aria, fully encased by her C-Sec armor disguise, had approached her with luggage in grasp only to temporarily set it down again to empty her gloved hands and raise them, place them on Tevos's face, and draw her in for a single commanding yet sentimental kiss without saying one word in excess after they parted, delivered Tevos to the realization that this specific kiss was atypical in that it wasn't merely supplementary to flirting or bouts of foreplay. There was no sex in it—no expectation or request or even the suggestion of it. It was a fond gesture of parting and nothing more, despite that ever-aloof gleam in Aria's eyes, refusing to admit that her action was befitting of genuine lovers more than anything else, and instead preferring to leave it up for subjective interpretation.

Now she was gone after spending multiple days as her houseguest, over which Tevos had substantially acclimated to Aria's presence. The pale but comforting cloud of optimism following her throughout her days, knowing that there was always Aria's loathed and beloved personality to return to after her long work days ended, had since dissipated and returned her to routine solitude, had not darker storms instantly gathered in their place from the memory of what occurred the day before. The Embassies, standing in their pristine dignity where C-Sec now amassed in greater concentration than what Tevos could recall in recent years, only reminded her that yesterday had not simply been a horrible, feverish nightmare, but a real life-and-death struggle where a botched plan had resulted in injury and death; fortunately, with death being the ailment suffered by their foe and not them. In an instant Tevos's day plummeted in quality and it never truly recovered, especially when subject to the emergency meeting the other councilors had called to discuss the terrible incident.

"This is just too much. _Far_ too much. These are not mere symptoms of a larger encroaching problem, but the fully-fledged problem itself rearing up to tear into this Council unchecked. We cannot afford to withhold due reaction. The Embassies simply _cannot_ compromise with a group who presses upon us the weight of terrorism and attempted assassinations." The salarian councilor lifted his wide, glossy eyes from the datapad lain on the rounded desk before him as he glanced about his fellow councilors, seeking their concurrence. The slate gray of the walls enclosing them was warm but devoid of feature, had there not been considerable effort taken to improve the area's hospitality with several synthetic plants and mass-produced wall art depicting Presidium sights and monuments. "We have to stop this _immediately,"_ he continued. "We need more intelligence, more security, and most of all... more transparency between one another." Forlan now gazed at Councilor Tevos, who occupied her usual conference room seat sixty degrees from his position. He fixated on the small white bandage pasted to the side of her face, covering the spot where her assailant had struck her yesterday, worn in the absence of the vaguest aspect of grief or shame contracted from being made a victim. She only stiffened as his insinuation—or accusation—congealed into sense within her mind.

"Excuse me?" Tevos defensively inquired.

"Councilor... as time goes on, we are continually being made further aware, by our investigative specialists, of just who this batarian man was. Flight records show that he was not a political refugee from Khar'shan, or anywhere else within the Hegemony. He arrived on a vessel bearing Attican Traverse registry, but before that transfer, his original departure was facilitated by a ship leaving the Sahrabarik system. He was from _Omega."_

Tevos stared at him unflinchingly. "That he was from Omega does not construe the motive behind an act of violent patriotism committed in an attempt to highlight issues of discrimination the batarians face abroad. No act is truly heinous enough to cancel all discourse regarding the issues it meant to address. We still have that responsibility."

"And just what do you make of the forged document found in his possession?" Councilor Estulius asked her. He was unable to stabilize mutual eye contact with Tevos since she had bitterly averted her gaze to deny him that privilege, but he pressed her to listen. "It is completely reasonable that your government would prescribe a swift cover-up to avoid unjust persecution, but here in the Council we cannot afford to turn a blind eye to the obvious coincidence here: an Omegan batarian singling out the asari councilor in particular, encouraged by false promises from Asari High Command that required authorizing the extradition of Aria T'Loak. This entire situation is, without a shred of doubt, a direct repercussion of your prolonged involvement on that detestable criminal station."

"Councilor Tevos," Forlan swiftly picked up after patiently waiting for Estulius to pause for more than half a second. The prevalence of the turian councilor's antagonizing tone and bluntness had steeply climbed since the first word he uttered against Tevos that day, whose reactionary demeanor had only grown aggrieved. Neither attitudes were lucrative, Forlan had decided. Timely interjection had presented itself as the best short-term solution. "I understand that this was originally an asari affair, concerning your official agreements and treaties. We stepped back, respectfully, and let you respond how you saw fit. Then one of our Spectres was murdered on Omega. You again requested unilateral involvement because the circumstances of Neora Sarthis's death presupposed sensitive asari intelligence. Again, we stepped back. A bit reluctantly that time, but we had faith in your assurances of progress and, frankly, appreciated not having to deal with the fallout ourselves. But when a fanatical Omegan batarian comes into the Embassies and unabashedly attacks _our_ Council... we can no longer bear the notion of stepping back a third time. Councilor, I would never actively aspire to place you in a troubling position, but Estulius and I have agreed to officially request full disclosure of your activities on Omega. I know this may upset you, but you must see that it is now completely within our right. You might be asari but you are still part of the _Council_ , defined by ancient law and treaty as a governing body which derives its power from the races it comprises. Therefore when _any_ portion of our Council comes under violent or unlawful threat, we are all legally entitled to any intelligence which may preserve this body or counteract such threats. I can have the appropriates statutes sent to you upon request if you wish to confirm the legitimacy of our claim."

Tevos could scarcely believe what was being demanded of her. "Send me them," she immediately decided, desperate for an escape route. It had been agonizing enough to have spent the last several minutes in the company of Councilor Kylris Estulius, who sat less than two meters away from her with a guiltless leer drawing his lightly-scarred brow plating downward. But to suddenly find herself legally obligated to forfeit her and Aria's alliance to their most probably enemy only added volatile fuel to the nascent flames of panic grazing her heart, invigorating their detrimental influence on her poise. There had to be a way out. If her thorough education in law had taught her anything, it was that there was _always_ a way out somewhere. She just needed to find it, quickly.

Forlan blinked at her tenacity, but complied. With a few inputs on the face of his datapad he sent several indexed statutes to his fellow councilor, who immediately delved into their interpretation. That she needed formal paperwork at all spoke volumes about her stance on the issue—her patent willingness to fight until the very last possible moment for preservation of confidence, even while despicable crimes befell them in consequence. "Tevos," he said, trying to sound sympathetic, "this isn't the time to be unreasonable. You were attacked yesterday. Nearly killed. At what point would you consider this becoming a concern for us all? When bombs start detonating in the lobby? When canisters of poison are thrown in the Chambers during petitions?"

She was impervious to the guilt-trip he attempted to burden her with, knowing that neither Forlan nor Estulius would fall within the crosshairs of the people Tevos was presently dealing with. She alone had been the one to incur their wrath. Instead, she flatly asked them, "How long do I have before my disclosure is due?"

"Twenty hours," Estulius tritely provided, minimizing what seemed to be smugness lining his statement. "If your disinclination to cooperate persists beyond that allotted time window, we may be forced to indict you for dereliction of duty."

Tevos swallowed the extraordinarily rare and vile urge to curse at him, and alternatively said nothing. So this had been part of Estulius's plan all along, she thought in contempt. She and Aria had once jointly believed that the disaster in her office had contained all the damage their enemies sought to inflict upon them in one convenient package, but Estulius had evidently injected into the operation more insidious, long-term consequences that carried the immense potential to permanently dissolve the asari councilor's alliance with Aria. And thus far, it seemed dreadfully likely that he had established himself well on the road to success. Tevos's lasting determination was his only obstacle, but she would see to it that she posed the most difficult and treacherous obstacle he would ever encounter in his life.

She rose from her chair, possessed by cold and rigid indignity, and began hastily gathering up her documents and tablets. Tevos aimed to leave the conference at once and begin devoting every last molecule of stamina and wit remaining inside her body to the task of finding a loophole in the law that presently bound her, within that single day. She would enlist her very best lawyers for help (including Irissa without question), inform Aria of the terrible turn of events, and call upon High Command for their advice, regardless of Tevos's preference. But just as the name of her contingent government crossed her mind, she heard a chime in the terminal mounted at her designated seat, announcing a waiting call rerouted from her office by her secretary. The glass of the table before her lit up with the name of a very distinguished Thessian contact: Matriarch Medora. In her surprise Tevos lifted her gaze to discover the equally puzzled expressions of her fellow councilors. She informed them of the caller's identity, also noting that the matriarch's privacy flag was not as severe as what had been typical over the last several weeks, finding that detail most curious of all.

"Good," Estulius favorably judged the unexpected company. "Perhaps they finally intend to include us in their discussion."

Ignoring him, Tevos answered the call in bewilderment. Before the Council, projected from the center of their table arose the well-dressed image of the matriarch, who greeted them.

"Matriarch Medora," Tevos began, meaning to clarify something important. "This forum is an appropriate setting for our discussion?"

_"Very much so,"_ Medora replied without hesitation. _"This morning my associates and I were alerted to your—our—legal predicament, which has been presented to you by now, I assume?"_ She briefly regarded the other councilors.

"Not ten minutes ago," answered Tevos, sounding a bit vexed. "I meant to contact you in private at the earliest opportunity."

_"No need,"_ the matriarch reassured her, but only managed to confuse Tevos even further. _"The purpose of my call, conveniently timed to coincide with your meeting by the advisement of your very helpful assistants, is to announce that central Asari High Command is assuming full responsibility, legal and otherwise, for the disclosure of our activities in Sahrabarik. We will, within the allowed work day, begin distributing classified records of what our agents have uncovered about your Spectre's disappearance, including the factions our investigation has... upset. We have decided to undertake this responsibility on behalf of our councilor, with whom we have efficiently shared intelligence throughout the entire ordeal, merely to remove Councilor Tevos from continued distress in light of what happened yesterday undeniably as a result of our presence on Omega. Asari High Command wishes to take every reasonable measure it can to provide our councilor with adequate time to recuperate and resume her duties while we elaborate to your governments all the troubling evidence we have accumulated regarding this hostile Omegan faction. However, because the Council has invoked a protection mandate that requires disclosure of all intelligence which can be used in ascertaining and defeating the entity that threatens it, Asari High Command found itself with no choice but to send a request to the Turian Hierarchy for any Terminus-pertinent confidential military operation records. It has become our suspicion that a prominent contributor to this anonymous enemy is a former special operative gone rogue. If our suspicion proves accurate and we are able to positively identify this individual, we may be able to obtain more information about motive, means, and... names of his potential allies."_

Hollow silence settled over the conference room. Tevos slowly turned to evaluate Kylris Estulius and found him bearing a subtle light of horror in his eyes, but with the passage of every second it seemed to darken with a treacherous rage evoked from deep within his chest. Meanwhile, Councilor Forlan appeared mildly perplexed, and as for Tevos herself... she struggled to comprehend what just happened. Carefully, she pieced together the implications of Medora's intervention to discern the matriarch's plan.

Asari High Command was stepping in to free Tevos from responsibility, fallaciously claiming that both the central and Council branch of their government shared intelligence and kept no secrets from each other. Surely Medora didn't actually believe that Tevos was disclosing everything she learned. No, she was no fool. She must have been vividly aware of Tevos's intentional reticence on several issues, but had permitted her secrecy through the understanding that Tevos required a mechanism for self-defense against those members of High Command who concealed things from her in turn. Medora didn't know about Tevos's close collaboration with Aria, she didn't know about the geth, but somehow, she _did_ know about Drialus Lorhan and his connection to Estulius, but only appeared to lack the concrete evidence to prove it. Until, that is, the Hierarchy turned over their records, having no other choice than to do so now that the Council declared their state to be one of emergency.

Slowly, it dawned on her that Medora had shielded Tevos and returned the blow the turian councilor had dealt her with such swiftness and ferocity that Estulius was rendered unable to even part his mandibles to issue a single sound of acknowledgement.

_"While I may,"_ Medora resumed, adopting a more amiable tone as if she had spontaneously forgotten the gravity of her first statement, _"I would ask you, Councilor Tevos, if you think your health will allow you to make the annual trip to Armali to join myself, as well as many other matriarchs, in celebrating the peaceful coexistence of our Republics next week? We are expecting ambassadors and magnates from several new colonies this year."_

Tevos managed to find her voice. "I—is that time of year already upon us again? I admit that it completely slipped my mind, with everything happening. But, yes, I do think I will be able to attend, as per usual."

_"Wonderful. But please, take care not to strain yourself beyond what you have deemed appropriate following this unspeakable act of violence. Truly, Councilor, I cannot fathom how you must be presently feeling. Therefore I hope I am not overstepping any boundaries when I inform you that Asari High Command has agreed to extend an invitation to Miss Aria T'Loak this year, in profound thanks for her actions. I shudder to think what may have transpired if she had not been so astute and unselfish, if I may severely understate reality. High Command wishes to repay her a great debt, perhaps through positive media attention that might aid in drawing tourism to Omega, which I've heard has recently become victim to sharp declines in intra-galactic trade and consumerism in wake of all its troubles. Before we would proceed, however, we would like to receive your opinion and approval."_

"Invite Aria T'Loak to a peace conference?" Estulius exclaimed, dumbfounded. "She is the very _antithesis_ to peace! I cannot understand why you would ever gamble your own safety by inviting a powerful criminal to the cultural heart of your homeworld to talk of _peace._ I doubt the word has ever crossed her vocabulary."

_"Fortunately for you, Councilor Estulius,"_ said Medora, _"the conference is very much an asari affair, so you need not fret over the identity or safety of the attendees. Elite commandos are generously posted throughout many checkpoints, and it isn't as though High Command in its entirely ever convenes in one place simultaneously. It's quite safe, and the motivation for inviting questionable persons is rather simple: given the nature of the conference, we aspire to celebrate and strengthen the unity of our territories, which has magnified in importance ever since my people began establishing homes outside of Thessia. Just as well, we are always overjoyed to find vestiges of peaceful intent within those who hadn't overtly displayed them before. We would like to encourage and nurture such proclivities, so that one day we might call former enemies and rivals by the name of friend."_

"Befriend Omega?" the salarian councilor mused aloud. To him the idea sounded a tad more fascinating than it did outright absurd. Estulius, on the other hand, was of a completely different opinion.

"The day Omega befriends us will follow the very end of society as we know it," he said, more so in resignation. Evidently, the asari approach to forging alliances offended him, but his stance only carried so far before it was attenuated against countless millennia of foreign culture.

_"So, Councilor? What might your verdict be?"_ Medora sought Tevos's opinion again, and soon received it.

"Well, if she finds this invitation agreeable, I would certainly not oppose having her for the conference. I think this can be a mutually beneficial experience."

Even as Tevos issued her consent she intently searched the matriarch's enigmatic face for a hint of underlying purpose. Clearly she had another plan altogether, this time featuring Aria as an integral component.

Saving Tevos from losing her footing in Sahrabarik had revealed Medora's benign intentions, again giving Tevos ample cause to void her suspicions of Medora having been historically dishonest. The gesture had been a calculated one. Medora came from a government tragically divided on this vital issue, generating a presence whose stance seemed to oscillate from day to day. High Command was their enemy and it was not. High Command was hurting them, _and_ protecting them. Medora needed to assert her individual role, because she remembered the way Tevos had watched her suspiciously over vid comm the day before.

So she had rescued their asari councilor from certain censure, cleverly timing her announcement to directly precede her proposal to bring both Tevos _and_ Aria into their midst, presumably to discuss with them something of greatest importance. Providing renewed evidence of her allegiance had certainly been the best way to do it, since Tevos would never have entrusted Aria's fate to High Command had she still warily clung to doubt and distrust.

There was something in motion, something that had been decided or found, and they were taking action.

Sixty degrees from her position at their rounded meeting table, it was now Kylris Estulius who began indignantly preparing to leave.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

The rattling and reverberating shuttle, as it soared past the border of the Zeta District demarcated by the utilities and environmental systems sustaining the area, was filled to its brim with the hybrid mercenary unit First Lieutenant Wasea had selected to bring with her. While the lieutenant rode in the front compartment with the driver, both her Eclipse soldiers and those borrowed from Aria occupied the hold of the truck, standing in twin rows facing one another beneath the grayish light shed by a lonely filament mounted in the metal ceiling. No windows were present to afford them knowledge of how far their destination was.

For most of the trip, Liselle had simply clung onto the hanging strap suspended over her position, steadying herself and unconsciously participating in the pastime of gazing across the narrow lane of empty space at the mercs on the other side, only to quickly avert her eyes to another banal target the second they'd catch her staring. The very air around them felt solemn and uneasy, made inhospitably tense by the uniform practice of steeling oneself for the very worst, if Asana and Wasea's plan went awry.

Liselle mentally clutched Daus's presence beside her as her sole source of consolation. They'd spent the early morning memorizing all the audio tones Wasea wanted to use for secure communications, ate small but calorie-dense portions of food for energy that could fuel combat for hours, pulled their armor on, and once again promised that they'd have each other's backs during the entire mission, no matter what happened. Daus was particularly emphatic about his vow. Liselle remembered him repeating a second time, in utter seriousness, that he was going to do everything in his power to make sure their enemy was neutralized, even if that required self-sacrifice or worse. She had impulsively agreed through nationalistic pride alone, not necessarily quite grasping or truly conforming to the idea of self-sacrifice at all, letting the dire notion bounce right off her without meaningful collision.

One of Wasea's mercenaries breached the silence with an ill-researched legend, "I heard that Drialus Lorhan is more machine than man now. I heard that someday he plans to preserve his brain in bio-gel and hook it up to a computer to achieve immortality."

Another called the claim inane, and expressed a profound desire to not hear the first mercenary speak again until they were back at the Eclipse outpost with their distinguished prisoner in tow.

When they arrived at Lorhan's tower, their transport lowered to a well-guarded platform just outside the yard immediately surrounding the building itself. The doors of shuttle rolled open and the mercenaries filed out at Wasea's order, assembling themselves neatly in an attentive line as the lieutenant made her way over to a second vessel which had landed minutes prior. Liselle saw Captain Asana, whose yellow-plated armor bore even more painted intricacies denoting rank than Wasea, including the black sun emblem where the depicted rays of light wavered over her entire chest, snaking to her sides, and haloed by two symmetrical circles around the central orb. She was not, by Liselle's judgement, as bitterly faced as Wasea.

After the brief rendezvous between the high officers of the division, a curt order had both mercenary units joining their commanders as they strode between the watchful ranks of guards hired by Lorhan, all darkly and uniformly outfitted; a private military to match Omega's finest, who grimly professed candidacy for the next ruling power if their voracious ambitions were realized.

Through the tinted visor of her helmet, Liselle endeavored to count and average the number of potential enemies they'd face shortly. Manageable handfuls became dozens the further they walked, now coming under the looming shadow of the business tower in its imposing symmetry, and passing through white steam rising from warm utilities under foot after they'd been rinsed by the environmental systems. Liselle suddenly began to doubt the acumen of her temporary leaders. She couldn't fathom how they—a mere band of twenty—would ever fare against such a pernicious hive, especially while carrying a burdensome captive on their backs. They were headed to the peak of the tower, she knew, where they would somehow overwhelm the security present in Lorhan's office during negotiations, then haul him all the way back down through the various floors of mercs, through the yard, and expect to return to their shuttles intact. Such a feat was impossible, Liselle despaired. Surely Wasea and Asana had seen the danger. They'd been operating for innumerable years, and no senior officer of an organization such as the Eclipse accepted missions where death was certain. They must've had a plan, she resolved. Something of the likes of which few minds could conjure, something that would utilize the mercenaries following them as pawns, a ruse, and little else due to their relative ignorance. It was the only sane explanation for their confidence.

They met with the captain of Lorhan's guard, who was awaiting their appointment in the company of several spare operatives.

"The proprietor," the turian detachedly began, "would request that you disarm before joining him."

"That's impossible," Asana replied. "If our negotiation is to proceed as planned, the Eclipse needs the assurance that we're not going to be cheated or otherwise victimized. This building is teeming with your forces. You have the ability to overwhelm us in seconds. We're keeping our weapons so that if we've been deceived, you will suffer _some_ degree of damage in repercussion. This way, neither of us is inclined to be dishonest with one another. If you can't accept these conditions we'll turn around and go home."

The guard visibly frowned, radioed Lorhan's office, and explained the ultimatum. In the end, their contact accommodated their reasonable demand and invited them into a short hall populated by large elevators used to lift and distribute cargo and mercenaries alike throughout the tower. Wasea and Asana's forces separated for the duration of the ride, dividing into groups of ten each, and rode their adjacent elevators in silence. The darkness of the presently-cramped area was only mitigated by the protruding bulge of glass that granted them awareness of how high they had ascended. Liselle peered around Daus's shoulder to watch their shuttle down on the platform shrink with distance, until it appeared a tiny figurine amongst the bridges and buildings. Her eyes then wandered to Wasea, who stood facing the window with a hand relaxed on the holster of her heavy pistol sidearm, quietly thinking as external metal reinforcements periodically skipped over their glass-faced elevator, casting fleeting shadows over the interior that made Liselle keenly aware of her own eyes readjusting to the dramatic and sudden changes in light. Still she wondered what Aria had promised her, what had possessed her to undertake such a risky operation without hesitation.

In retrospect, Liselle felt that it would've been ultimately wiser to have stayed with Rasma and the others back at the home of the quarians, but the way Wasea's mercenaries combined with those she had selected from Aria's offered pool stood their ground resolutely in the face of daunting odds, reassured Liselle where her speculations, grasping at Wasea and Asana's designs in vain, could not.

They were going to be okay, she told herself in a recurrent mantra. They were going to be all right.

When the elevator released them, Wasea led her unit to Asana's as they emerged. They were swept up by a small dispatch of Lorhan's guard, who escorted them down the bleak corridors of a fortress that had never been lived in, but merely occupied like a bunker carved into the asteroid cavern where its master brooded and lived vicariously through those who dared to leave its protection. It was nothing but a hub for Lorhan's forces, utilitarian and highly militaristic, blatantly lacking the soul and passion that defined the bases of his rivals: Sahra Igrahal's bustling and spirited recreational center, and Aria T'Loak's glorious and decadent nightclub Afterlife.

They were collectively admitted into Drialus Lorhan's office and ordered to stand vigilant against the walls opposite to the forces Lorhan had summoned to accompany him. As they made way for the negotiation, Liselle detected few attempts to make the space comfortable beyond several locked cabinets, gray and smooth, and an office chair set before a desk befitting the most mundane of businessmen. But the turian himself, spotted peering out his one-way glass wall to overlook his limited realm, was not so simple in appearance. He dressed darkly, moodily, but the luster of his elbow as it protruded from his tailored sleeve and drawn into a contemptuous fold across his chest, abruptly reminded Liselle that this man was no mundane specimen in the slightest. He was subject to visions from creatures like Nazara, perhaps from the reanimated Spectre as well, and there was no telling what the effects might have done to his psyche.

Liselle recalled seeing a room where physical possessions were in unnatural absence. It had been Nazara's room, devoid of distraction, devoid of organic pettiness and the pursuit of tangible manifestations of wealth, of which she retained little concept. Perhaps the nightmares had irreparably altered Lorhan; those silent films of supreme horror visiting him unbidden throughout the night's vulnerable unconscious hours. Perhaps he had not always been this way—derelict of taste and personality, lost to the droll phantasms of rudimentary electronic intelligence.

When he turned to gaze upon his visitors, Liselle immediately saw in his left eye an abnormal rust-hued gleam, like the glassy dimness of an exhausted bulb with a lens trapped within, analytical and accusatory. He stood stolidly for a time before finally orienting his body in the direction of Captain Asana and her first lieutenant.

"A heavy escort you've brought, Captain," he remarked, eyeing the multitude of mercenaries lining the walls of his office.

"A humble eighteen," Asana reported, "to insure us against your two hundred."

He seemed to smile, but Liselle was not certain of it. Lorhan calmly made his way to his desk, seated himself, and peered at the Eclipse expectantly. "So," he began, "What news of Aria T'Loak might you bring with you? The latest I've heard is a story where she has leapt to the defense of a Citadel diplomat. Does this not concern her followers? What sort of dignified de facto ruler of Omega bends their knee to foreign governments and services them like a common bodyguard?"

"One who knows how to forge strong alliances," said Asana. "Getting on the good side of Council Space politicians is something few ever achieve. More than often our kind get arrested for trespassing the moment we insert our foot in the door. But not Aria T'Loak. She knows how to make friends almost as good as she knows how to use them. You could say that this bit of news only further justifies our reason to be here. If we allow Aria to proceed as she is now, worming her way into massive entities such as the Citadel Council, we might just stop being useful to her in comparison. With our longevity tied to her tolerance, I can't allow that to happen. Jona Sederis, however, remains deferential and naïve. She refuses to believe that the Eclipse is living on borrowed time, that our Omega dispatch needs to take a stand for independence or be whittled away to nothing within a few decades. Even if we may not have her blessing, this must be done for the sake of our organization. The Gysia Division will be the first wave of many, I can assure you. The Eclipse of Omega must follow in our footsteps or die."

Liselle thought the speech compelling. Momentarily even she, with knowledge of their true intentions, was fooled into thinking Asana's stance was earnest.

"I find it exceedingly curious that you would reveal your inclinations without even attempting to bargain with me," said Lorhan.

"Retiring our enmity does not necessarily establish a friendship," Asana clarified. "The conditions for _that_ is what's currently up for discussion. And I'll bargain, sure, but I don't play games. We put our offers down, negotiate and stipulate until we've found common ground, and then we leave."

"A fair request," Lorhan judged the captain's aversion toward nonsense. "One I can comply with. However, you are aware that by the end of this meeting... Aria T'Loak will have marked your division an enemy? Perhaps Sederis will as well. By the time you return to your outpost, contract in hand, her spies will have reported to her. And she does have spies, everywhere. It may be in your interest to accept my offer of sending reinforcements with you, to better help you defend your territories."

"Lorhan's soldiers in an Eclipse outpost," Wasea echoed the offer with disdain, not much caring whether speaking in Asana's stead was at all reprehensible. "I think we'll hold our own just fine. Aria's spies don't worry us at all. Let her know, for all I care. Hell, I'll let her know myself."

"They don't worry you?"

"Not at all. They just expedite Aria's awareness of something we've already extensively prepared for."

"Then you are either brave or foolish," he said, "because I could never be so dismissive of the prospect of spies within my own ranks, especially in the high likelihood that they're present. I usually try to take precautionary measures before speaking aloud of anything important, and I'd extend that same advice to you, Lieutenant. Captain. Do you routinely inspect your forces?" He ran his malevolent gaze over the Eclipse mercenaries stationed like statues behind their commanding officers, briefly settling on each as if he were conducting numerous interviews. Liselle felt ill when his scrutiny passed over her yellow-clad body. "I find it interesting, to see a turian among you. I was under the impression that the Eclipse was primarily an asari and salarian organization."

"We don't discriminate," Asana said, quickly acting to draw attention away from Daus. "We have numerous turians back at the outpost, all contributing and receiving their fair share."

Her assurance didn't seem to influence Lorhan's focus. Still he held Daus under his chilling survey. "Then you wouldn't mind if I requested, for my own comfort, to be permitted to see the faces of those I will soon be working alongside?" Lorhan turned to Asana, whose jaw had visibly adopted an unhealthy amount of tension, seen elsewhere in the shallow, quivering indentation of her temple.

"You want what?" she asked. "You want to see my merc's face?"

"Indulge me, if you would."

When Asana faced their direction, Liselle felt panic creeping into her chest upon seeing the bitter resignation in Captain Asana's features. Asana was going to agree. She had no other choice—resistance would only demonstrate to Lorhan that they were hiding something, and the entire mission would instantly devolve into a frantic scramble for survival once the entire tower was informed of their treachery and became hostile. Worst of all, Liselle knew, was that neither Asana nor Wasea were aware of the necessity for being concealed. Liselle hadn't disclosed to her a single shred of intelligence regarding Nazara or Lorhan's link to them; what technologies he possessed, how it was that he seemed to demonstrate a narrow omnipotence of an operation which they had once believed was exceedingly covert... They were trapped, left to the mercy of Lorhan's recognition.

"All right," Asana mirthlessly conceded. "You, turian. Helmet off."

Daus remained motionless for just a few seconds before lifting a hand. It stalled midway as if quickly debating against himself, but ultimately resumed its rise until he'd found the discreet release that broke the seal between his helmet and his armor. Carefully he angled his hard head-crest out of the helmet, brought it away, and lowered it to rest cradled in one arm. Liselle could perceive an intense shame in his eyes, quavering against inevitability as Lorhan was permitted to behold his young unblemished face where no proud emblems of allegiance had ever painted him.

For a moment Liselle thought it was the end. She braced herself, preparing for Lorhan's inevitable tantrum brought on by exposed deceit, but the ruthless order to gun down the Eclipse liars where they stood never arrived.

"Telycialux Daus," Lorhan said, pronouncing the man's name with practiced accuracy, but wrapping his tongue about the syllables in the absence of anger. He sounded more so intrigued. "What a strange manner in which you've come here. It causes me to wonder... if you've brought anyone else with you." He regarded Asana. "Have all your remaining mercenaries remove their helmets."

Again unable to refuse, Asana relayed the order to her forces. Like Daus, Liselle peeled her helmet away from her head and suffered, tortured by herself, by the penetrating spotlight gaze of the turian smuggler, and by Wasea as well, whose aspect of agitation continued to amplify by the second. Just as before, Drialus Lorhan never assumed any trace of aggression.

"Step forward and approach, Telycialux," he said.

Daus silently obeyed, striding forward on stiff legs, and carved himself a small path between Wasea and Asana before he came to stop in front of Lorhan's desk.

"This project," Lorhan calmly began, primarily speaking to Daus but never mitigating the volume of his voice in search of privacy, "was perhaps the most successful one I've contrived in several years. I honestly couldn't have been more pleased with the outcome, or more impressed by the technique. My only concern is, naturally, your reaction to our scientists in their home. I suppose it would be more becoming of me to assume some of the fault for not disclosing such information, but I hope you understand that the precautions were all very necessary. I have to ask—do you take issue?"

"It was a bit of acting," Daus replied, sounding hollow. "Rasma Visiom informed us that Aria was inserting agents into the Eclipse, so I needed a quick way out. I figured insubordination and emotional distress would be the most efficient way to go about it, and it turned out well enough. Visiom didn't want me anywhere near the house after that."

Lorhan visibly smiled in a peculiar, artificial manner which unsettled but did not quite undermine the veracity of his satisfaction. "Wit and initiative," he said in approval. "And not only that. You've managed to bring me someone else. One of Aria's enforcers, well-endowed with knowledge of her inner workings, her insecurities, her relations... Everything we need to regain the upper hand. Speaking of which, I have a new errand for you, and you'd be wise to accept. I have something I need to give him. All the instructions, including the recipient, will be found in the package. Deliver it and keep vigilant watch. Remember, Telycialux, we are at war. Now you must leave Omega immediately. Aria will relentlessly hunt you if you don't."

"I understand," said Daus.

"Good, you're dismissed."

Beneath the shocked stares of the Eclipse, Telycialux Daus made for the exit where one of Lorhan's mercenaries halted him, placed a very small, gray box in his hands, and opened the door to permit his departure. Daus never once glanced back, leaving Liselle desperately searching in vain for just a glimpse of eye contact which might have helped her comprehend what had just transpired. So bewildered was she that Liselle couldn't even react, couldn't even hate him, couldn't even feel pain or fear while overwhelming confusion drowned out all other mental processes.

"Liselle Kasantis."

When Liselle heard her name on the lips of the despicable man before them, her eyes slowly drew away from the blank surface of the door and regarded him in helpless woe.

"I first heard your name several weeks ago," he said. "Telycialux informed me that you're someone who knows a conspicuous lot about Aria's syndicate, and Aria herself. I'm glad he brought you here. You'll prove very useful to me in the coming days. Captain Asana, if you would, it's in both of our interests that you relinquish that spy of Aria's to me. Cleanse your ranks."

Reluctantly, Asana intended to once again obey his behest, but Wasea intervened.

"Hold up right there," she said. "Kasantis isn't yours to take. She stays in _our_ custody until we're done with her."

"Step back, Lieutenant," Lorhan warned her. Behind him, his soldiers were fidgeting with their firearms, turning the safety off but containing their urge to aim them quite yet. "I'm negotiating with your captain, not you. Captain Asana, I have a proposition. You've come into my tower infested with spies, your carelessness compromising this meeting's privacy for both you and myself. And you wish to be my ally? I once thought the Eclipse efficient and perceptive. It seems I was mistaken all along. If our relations are to continue, I require your deference. I don't deal with organizations who fail to meet my standards of quality. I will permit you to leave here in peace and return once you've purged yourself of spies, but only if you prove your dedication to this condition by giving me Liselle Kasantis."

Wasea's expression contorted into obvious antipathy. "Absolutely not. We'd be handing over an invaluable source of intelligence, for what? A contingent, immaterial offer of further negotiations sometime in the future, which _may or may not_ work out in the end? I'm no fool—"

"Wasea," Asana curtly addressed her, a firm tone of warning lining her words as she invoked her own authority over the first lieutenant. "Stand down."

Captain and lieutenant glared at one another. Obvious to the Eclipse under their command was a challenge of power, of leadership wisdom, of gall when facing their most potent foes. Wasea could see her aim. Asana did not want their mission compromised. In her mind every single person in the room was expendable if it placed Drialus Lorhan in their hands, even the agent Liselle Kasantis, even Wasea herself, since she was so very insistent on jeopardizing the mission for whatever daft reason she possessed. But only Wasea knew that her reason wasn't daft at all. It was the sanest reason in the universe, to dodge responsibility for having Aria's daughter captured, tortured, and probably killed.

"Have Kasantis there restrained," Lorhan told a pair of mercs at his side, presuming Asana's will to be supreme. "Place her in a holding cell until we're ready to have her interviewed."

When Liselle saw the mercenaries approaching, she staggered a terrified step backward and met the wall behind her, left with no where to go. The Eclipse were not leaping to her aid. Not even Aria's agents, still unexposed, would dare risk their cover to save her out of camaraderie. Every individual around her sought only to preserve themselves, bound by Captain Asana's orders which compelled them to express uniform neutrality and submission. Liselle trembled, fearing what would be done to her, fearing the same horrific fate that had left Eruam Anikot's corpse mutilated beyond recognition. She raised her assault rifle in a final bid to save herself, to which the mercs responded by activating their kinetic shield modules. She would never be able to fire quickly enough to dispatch them.

"This ultimately makes the Eclipse stronger," Asana said to Wasea, having watched the way her lieutenant dangerously bristled with widening eyes. She endeavored to pacify her and prevent further altercation. "Compromise is not devaluation. It's an investment."

Wasea turned to face her, shoulders lightly heaving with a bold ambitious wrath burning in the depths of her soul. Just when the hands of Lorhan's mercs were placed upon Liselle, driving the girl to struggle, Wasea lifted an index finger and leveled it with Asana's face. The cryptic gesture puzzled the captain, concerned her greatly. She parted her lips to inquire what Wasea meant to convey, but in Wasea's free hand there lied a discreet panel of switches, the device barely fitting her palm. When Wasea pressed a finger into the face of one of the switches, Liselle vaguely heard the flat pattern of audio tones arising from inside the helmet she'd dropped to the floor, modestly humming and portending the most dreadful of responses.

Wasea's mercenaries opened fire, even several of those standing alongside Asana. So quickly had those in support of Wasea responded to the order that the sudden scream of gunfire jolted Lorhan's mercenaries away from Liselle in surprise, along with the tower's owner himself, who rose from his desk just swiftly enough to witness seven bodies collapse to the floor as if abruptly toppled by a violent gale of wind where they bled, dead and dying, slaughtered in cold unremitting mutiny.

Rightfully fearing their next move, Lorhan quickly ordered his mercs to neutralize Wasea's group. However, at his order chaos broke out amid his own ranks rather than between them and Wasea. Soldier fired upon fellow soldier in a torrent of disarray, revealing to Lorhan through a deluge of blood that not only had the Eclipse been compromised by Aria's spies, but his own organization as well. They had permeated his realm in strength like an infection consuming the very flesh of his enterprise.

Wasea had commanded that her own mercs hold their fire. Liselle took aim with them but obeyed, standing over the bodies of those who had tried to capture her as they waited for the skirmish to produce a victor. When the exchange of gunshots and close-quarters knifing had subsided, five agents still lived. At once they rushed over to the office exit and began barricading it with every stark piece of utilitarian furniture in the room, effectively preventing reinforcements from bursting in to collect their endangered employer. The Eclipse soon joined in by smashing in the lock mechanism and moving chairs and cabinets alike until a humble mountain had been erected.

The time had come to seize Lorhan. Wasea had her mercs cautiously approach the panic-stricken man, whose geth-augmented gaze ran over each of them in frenetic hatred. Liselle could see the holster of a sidearm protruding from the torso piece of his attire, but he did not draw it in his defense. Rather, Lorhan raised his metallic left arm when the mercenaries closed in and simultaneously pressed three buttons flush with the underside of his wrist. He displayed to them a blinking light, red and ominous, and bade them to stay back.

"Satellite-class mining explosives!" he exclaimed, shedding his leveled demeanor for a wild fit of survivalist passion. "The very instant I am removed from this building it will detonate, carving a kilometer-wide crater into this district, and the only way to disarm it is exclusively known by a handful of technicians twelve stories below our position!"

"Grab him," Wasea insisted, and her mercs obeyed. Lorhan was easily overcome and restrained, brutally pushed to the floor where the operatives held him.

Liselle could hear a blaring alarm sounding outside the office and echoing beneath her feet in the same pattern of sound. Everyone in the tower had been alerted to the situation and were zealously responding. Soon enough, they began hearing pounding on the reinforced door, trying to breach their barricade and reach Lorhan. Wasea directed them to take positions all around the office, ducking behind the sparse furniture that remained as makeshift cover as they awaited the imminent firefight, laser sights dancing along the irregular metal surfaces of their barricade.

They were trapped anew, Liselle recognized. A band of eighteen against a hundred trying to pour into their little alcove, but Wasea wasn't overtly troubled by the odds.

"They won't throw any grenades in here while Lorhan's with us," she told them. "Keep him close. That man's our meat shield until further notice." She tapped an index finger against her communicator. "Ready for pickup," she said, and might've said more, had she not reassigned her attention to a weak sputtering sound near her feet.

It was the captain, bleeding and weakly clinging onto a swirling state of awareness. Asana focused on Wasea as the vigorous pounding on the door echoed on regular interval, and she sneered at her in a rasping voice, "You... You fucking, disgusting traitor... You vile _serpent._.. You... You _wanted_ this." She gritted her teeth in bitter resent, spitting her own saliva and blood at the boots of her lieutenant. "Fucking traitor. You made a deal with her, didn't you...? That _devil_..."

Wasea was merely amused to see that Asana yet lived. She looked down at her with a superior leer, ignoring the stares of her forces, and quietly said to her, "This is Omega, Captain. There are demons here, everywhere we go, whispering and waiting for us to pass through their gates, and we inevitably do. We have all signed deals with a devil at some point, Asana. Maybe I've done it so much that now I'm a devil too."

With twisted pleasure Wasea gave the trigger of her heavy pistol a quick squeeze and was done with the captain forever. Even as the very walls of the office seemed to groan with the strain of an entire syndicate aspiring to kill them, she proudly declared to her entrenched, scant forces, "It appears as though natural procession of rank and authority would see me as your captain now. Captain Wasea, of the Gysia Division. I like the sound of that..." She strode several leisurely steps about the office in victory. "So how does that sound? Good, yes? Operative?"

The salarian she addressed gave a nod.

She was pleased by his response. "Ultimately makes the Eclipse stronger," she acridly mocked Asana. "Surrendering your agents to anyone who asks for them makes the Eclipse stronger? Did you people enjoy that, being so easily disposable to your captain?" Wasea didn't receive any affirmative answers. "Fuck Asana. _I'm_ making the Eclipse stronger. Gysia needed a big strong fucking _leader_ to take care of it, not some little sycophant _bitch._ And how about you, Lorhan? How does _Captain Wasea_ sound to you?" Her steps brought her to stop before the turian, held against the floor by combination of tied wrists and a merc's boot unkindly placed on his back.

"It sounds utterly temporary," he muttered with spite.

"Yet not nearly as temporary as you," she said, then smashed the solid toe of her boot into his shoulder, burying into tender flesh the tall ridge of his collar attempted to protect. He growled viciously and defiantly in pain, refusing to make any sound that would gratify his captor.

"Captain," said a mercenary, "how are we going to leave with him? The bomb—"

"Patience," she interrupted her. "Have some trust in your new captain. Just relax and revel in what we're about to pull off: one of the best abductions in all the history of our organization."

Wasea, still enchanted by the afterglow of assuming the highest rank after the founder Jona Sederis herself, paid little attention to the skycars hovering near the wide glass window. Liselle was among those who _did_ see them, and punctually caught her notice, "Wasea..."

"What?"

"Outside."

She turned to the source of the rust-colored glow that poured into the room, looking beyond the pane to see the dreary light cast by Sahrabarik seeping between the buildings, where shadows of skycars eclipsed and drew ever closer as they strategically approached. Doors lifted open, producing the barrels of weapons, but they never took aim at the building itself. The vista before the office was suddenly embroiled in conflict. Skycars sprouted smoke and glittered bright yellow as hails of bullets speckled and glanced off their shells. When one of Lorhan's cars was engulfed by fire, an unruly smile broke out on Wasea's face, thrilled beyond words to see her plan blossom so perfectly. Support had arrived in the form of a nimble fleet, marked proudly by crests bearing characters from a language Liselle translated to the best of her ability: _House Igrahal of Mazat,_ and others—compact double and single-pilot fighters meant for spacefaring spreading out among them—carrying the wicked insignia of the Dar'nerah pirate fleet.

"It's the batarians!" one of Wasea's mercenaries exclaimed.

So Aria had convinced Sahra Parem Igrahal to go to war with her, Liselle marveled as they witnessed the battle between the spires. The pirates were well-experienced over endless seasons of raiding, easily outmaneuvering the less agile vehicles piloted by Lorhan's army and reducing them to orange bursts of shrapnel with alarming speed and accuracy. Even the few gunships that had mobilized upon realizing the tower was under attack could not keep their guidance systems locked onto the fighters for long. They would spin and weave and the missiles would be lost to the caverns, and then the fighters would return to sink the gunships where they floated in the desolate air above the compound.

One of Igrahal's skycars escorted by half a dozen vessels fending off all enemies who drew close, hovered close to the office window, and through its opening passenger door an armored batarian extended his arms to hold a white-hot cutting tool to the glass. He carved a wide aperture with ease, large enough to fit two bodies through abreast, and the Eclipse aided his efforts by forcing the ovular cutting out of their way. Wasea was quick to update him.

"Get in here and hand me that tool," she told him, and he quickly complied. After he placed the cutting tool in her hand she passed it onto one of Aria's agents, who had posed as one of Lorhan's guard. "We need to get that arm off of Lorhan, now!"

The turian obeyed without hesitation, flicking on the power and intensifying the contained beam of energy until it resembled a diamond glowing with heat, then held it to Drialus Lorhan's forearm as his fellow operatives held the man down. Not wanting to potentially tamper with the prosthetic's inner mechanism and erroneously set off the charge, the agent cut into his flesh, just above the elbow where the metal terminated, and all occupants of the room were subjected to the agonized shouts of their hostage as his carapace burned away and left muscle tissue and bone to the mercy of the instrument. Though it did not take long to completely slice through the limb and leave it black and cauterized, Lorhan had passed out from the pain and struggled no more against them. Swiftly they hauled him up from the floor and placed him in the back seat of the skycar.

"A shuttle's coming in to get you," the batarian told him as he climbed back into the pilot's seat. "We're bringing him straight to Aria."

"Hold on," said Wasea. "Let me send one of my people with you in the meantime. Not that I don't trust you bastards—just a standard precaution. Liselle, come here." She hastily motioned to her.

Liselle approached the window upon recognizing Wasea's interest to have her out of danger as soon as possible, and she gave her no trouble. It would've been difficult to object to such a beneficial order.

"That's fine," the batarian agreed. Liselle began carefully stepping into the car. "Get in and let's get the hell—"

A whining screech pierced the air and drowned out the rest of his statement. One of the fighters previously protecting them had come hurling in their direction after being shot out of the sky, spinning in a turbulent dive while losing debris to the attrition of flame and popping electronics. While most of the Eclipse managed to flee from the window in time, the separated wing of the fighter collided with the skycar, its tip bursting through the windshield and impaling the pilot. His deathly spasming against the controls sent the car veering away and downward, pulling Liselle with it, whose feet were still split occupying both the car and the building. When she lost her footing in both occasions she shrieked with fear as she fell away from the weltering car. Weightlessness surged in her gut at the floor no longer existing beneath her feet, bringing her down three terrifying stories before she was able to biotically brake her descent enough to grasp onto the exterior frame of the elevator they had taken to Lorhan's office. With a bang her body sharply halted, where approximately ten meters away and below her position the skycar hovered inert, its pilot deceased. Her assault rifle had fallen from her reassigned hands and tumbled into the abyssal depths of the district.

_"Fucking shit!"_ Liselle heard Wasea loudly curse from above, reacting to the combination of losing custody of their hostage and nearly watching Aria's daughter plummet to her death. All around Liselle the airborne battle persisted, sprays of bullets puncturing the nearby face of the building while booms reverberated far below. She could not stay there and wait for rescue. Eventually she would be struck by stray fire or lose her grip, and it was impossible to decide which fate would prove worse. The maiden drew in a deep breath that filled her lungs to capacity as she fixated on the open door of the skycar, and tensed her muscles in search of the biotic might her mother had promised in her blood. There was no more room for doubt, none for fear nor timidness. Her heart was set aflame by instinct, burning brightly and hotly with the pain of betrayal as notions of Daus balefully resurfaced in her conscience, who had once promised that they'd protect each other. Had he kept his word, he would've been there for her now. Reality scalded her, evaporated her tears and despair until her wells of emotion were refilled with boiling vengeance. There was no one to trust but herself, no one to depend on but herself. Self-preservation was her prerogative alone.

Liselle propelled herself from the elevator's outer frame by biotically pushing off with her feet, and after what felt like a terrifying eternity spent flailing through the air she smacked against the hood of the car, where her fingers and boots squealed along the polished metal in search of grooves. When she had recovered, Liselle quickly climbed into the vehicle, confirmed the pilot was truly dead, and ejected him from the car with a silent apology uttered in the privacy of her mind. Accessing the computer, she lifted the skycar back into position in front of the office, just in time to spot the promised shuttle approaching to pick up the Eclipse.

"Get out of here, Liselle!" Wasea commanded her. "Get out of here and get him to Aria! Go!"

Behind the captain, the barricade at the door shook and finally began to collapse. The Eclipse forces were diving for cover now, aiming down the sights of their firearms at the breach. Pressed for time, Liselle obeyed Wasea's order and brought the skycar away, and the last sight she caught of her allies was Lorhan's mercenaries bursting through the door to the office to pin them down in a brutal firefight. Liselle engaged the engines, accelerating away as fast as the craft could bear in so short a time to escape the fray with their unconscious prisoner. Against the body of the car she could hear the periodic clink of bullets and debris, never quite penetrating, and Liselle prayed it was a sign attesting to that she hadn't been targeted or pursued, because she possessed no mounted weapons to properly defend herself with if Lorhan's hirelings gave chase.

Resourcefully but ineffectively she flipped on the autopilot to turn around and check the man's pockets and discreet flaps in his attire to search for transponders, fighting impotently against the high likelihood of any such devices being subdermal if they indeed existed. When she found nothing she assessed him again, ensuring that he was properly restrained, although his condition of missing one forearm made it considerably more difficult to secure him.

An idea came to her. She gripped the sleeve of his dark suit still clothing his maimed limb, and tore away a strip in an ascending spiral to considerably extend its length. With the ribbon of material she blinded him by wrapping it several times around his face, disallowing any information he might be able to transmit to Nazara, or anyone else for that matter. After tying a tight knot behind his head, Liselle returned to the skycar controls and checked to see if the autopilot was still adequately functioning even after its panel suffered a worrisome degree of physical damage.

For a time she traveled in unnerving silence with Lorhan in the back, unsure of when he would awake or how he would react upon gathering his bearings. Liselle would've called someone for aid, either Zuria or Aria, had she not been thoroughly saturated with the fear of interception. No, she had to fly as dark as possible, eliminating all non-essential transmissions, and hoping the broken windshield would not attract attention she could not handle. The emergency kinetic shield suspended over the jagged hole kept the biting winds out of the vessel as she eased it into speeds well exceeding two hundred kilometers per hour. Listening to the droning electric hum of the engine steeply climb in pitch was always pleasing to the ears on a visceral level, and she considered breaking three hundred for expediency's sake, but moving significantly faster than the majority flow of traffic always heightened the chance that just one person disengaging their autopilot would suddenly pose a deadly hazard.

Only ten minutes elapsed before Liselle heard Drialus Lorhan stirring in the row of seats behind her, vocalizing a nonsensical slur of words as he came to, before distress returned to him upon recalling the state of his left arm. A frustrated cry of pain and trauma left his throat, filling the interior of the skycar and causing Liselle to jump in her seat. The exclamation dwindled from its peak, devolving into fearful, disoriented gasping and muttering of curses. Liselle made no effort to palliate his fretting, not wanting to say anything that might compromise her identity and make the journey twice as difficult as it needed to be.

_"Spirits!_ Where am I?" he demanded, his flanging tones undulant with weakness. "I'm in a car—I can hear it. Who's driving!? Wasea? One of my own?"

"I can't answer that," said Liselle.

"Why the hell not? You are either friendly to me or an enemy. There is no neutral ground to tread on anymore, so why can't you at least tell me whether I'm headed for safety or death? Do I truly not deserve to know that much?"

Liselle refrained from replying. Her silence elicited an aggravated exhale from Lorhan. For a time he struggled against the bind tying his elbows together, the restraints catching on the clothed protrusions of his carapace which rendered him unable to slip out and free himself. Even so, Liselle closely monitored him until he surrendered to his situation and became dismally quiet. They sat in terrible discomfort for what Liselle thought to be an hour, despite the skycar's computer only counting three minutes.

"Tell me something," Lorhan said. "Why is it that so many harbor an insatiable compulsion to make subordinates out of all surrounding creatures? Why does it so often come down to petty things like wealth and rulership? Passing through ages of fire and torment without visible end, always perishing before the means have even produced the intended results. And then the spirit of it all continues in another's conquest. Why do this?"

Liselle, who watched in paranoia for the slightest error in the warm orange text reporting the skycar's systems data in the panel before her, hadn't much patience for philosophy or introspection. "Because people like you participate," she unhappily decided. She checked the rear-view camera for the third time that same minute.

"My arm has been removed from my body for the third time in my life," Lorhan said at great personal distance. "I no longer have relation to it. It's a glove that can be pulled on and taken off arbitrarily, or outfitted with explosives, made into a weapon. Telycialux programmed that feature for me. When he first came to work for me he was a mere boy abandoned by dishonorable parents. Now I can only hope that he finds peace elsewhere for the time being, helping Kylris finish this." At Liselle's silence, Lorhan elaborated. "The way I see my current predicament... you are either one of two things. You are either Aria T'Loak's agent collecting me at her behest, or you are that last resort we were promised. And either you are already aware of everything I say to you, or you _will_ know shortly. I wouldn't resist Aria if I'm to find myself at her mercy. There's no wisdom nor any intrinsic value found in fighting a battle where death is certain, contrary to what Kylris, Marus, and perhaps all my people may collectively believe. I've outlasted my demise through caution and opportunity. And I shall do it again, even if I must forego everything I've thoroughly spent myself on for the last few months. Kylris and Marus wanted to fashion a galaxy where their children could raise their families in peace wherever they might venture, where Attican worlds could be colonized without suffering the cruelty or allure of piracy. This may or may not come to pass, but not at my expense."

"Telycialux Daus," Liselle cautiously began. She selected her words with care, assembling them in such a manner that would probe information without giving herself away. "He... warned Vathesa about Aria's spies."

"He did," Lorhan flatly answered. "The warning bought them enough time to prepare."

"And Daus... helped ambush Aria during the second incident with the Spectre?"

"No, he did not. And I wouldn't know who compromised that one—I believe they're in Marus's care, not mine. But Telycialux eliminated two lieutenants. Pasora, I believe, was the first, and Aetius Visiom the second. Marus couldn't bear to ordain that death himself. He'd already mourned his son who'd been long lost to the vices of this place... yet he still refused to deal the final blow. That responsibility fell to me, and then to Daus. An extraordinarily savage way we've gone about this, pitting our offspring against one another. Telycialux was, perhaps, the closest thing I ever had to a son, despite his professional distance. It's likely I'll never see him again."

Liselle felt her skin prickling with a queasy unease. So quick was Drialus Lorhan to capitulate, to spill his secrets and incriminate everyone involved, and whether it was out of spite or out of a sudden obsequiousness toward anyone with a hint of influence over his fate was irrelevant to Liselle. What mattered to her most was the contents of his mind and memory, liberally flooding the compact shell of the skycar with profiles of the individuals who had led the cabal against Aria. At the helm of it all were other turians by the names of Kylris and Marus, both deeply invested in Omega enough to draw their third friend Drialus into the plot, who'd been extremely accommodating, but ultimately uninterested in the merit of their pursuits.

When Lorhan had spoken to her he had sounded poignantly contrite, as if the presence of a grave mistake had finally dawned on him, and he was responding by abandoning ship at the first opportunity. This was why, Liselle realized, Lorhan had built up his defenses so thoroughly and spent his days a secretive recluse and not a warlord of clout, because he knew himself, and knew his inclination to let go of all hope and conviction once in the hands of those who would harm him.

She wasn't certain if she could fault him for his capriciousness. He smuggled because it was his talent, procured weapons and equipment for his allies because it was what he did best, and made immense profits off it all because it was opportunity. Just the same, he was adapting again in the name of survival, not pride, valor, or greed. Survival alone, driving him to bargaining as if the mode were programmed in his brain to activate once certain situational criteria had been met. Torn from the hard shell of his tower, the man was of absurdly fragile spirit. Aria would break him in seconds once she got her hands on him, but wouldn't need to break him at all in the first place. He was already wide open, ready for birds of carrion to devour him.

"If you are to deliver me to Aria," Lorhan said, "I would inform her that I can be of magnificent use. I know much, and am capable of even more with my varied connections. I have never been a vainglorious man, but always a pragmatic one. I understand that Aria is both, and hope that she will see things with similar perspective."

Possibly he sought Liselle's sympathy. A glimpse of pity felt for a man doomed to suffer and die in a cold interrogation room like the traitors before him. In another time Liselle might have bent under the pressure of such wrenching images, touching the tender emotions she cradled in innocence, but there was nothing left to spare for Drialus Lorhan. A peculiar membrane of numbness had closed over her flesh, sealing her against the despair of Daus's betrayal trying to penetrate her heart. It was self-protection.

She wondered if this was what her mother had stumbled upon many centuries ago, if this was the phenomenon that hardened her into who she was presently. Wave after wave of molten adversity washing over her, searing and scarring her skin to the point at which it no longer hurt but instead formed a thick outer hide which no blade nor loss of personal favor could puncture, save for very rare select circumstances. Replacing her mortal form with a being of steel, both glacially cold and conductive to unfathomable heat, forcefully tearing her way through all who could never stop her as if they were mere quivers in the void.

It was intoxicating; the idea of immunity to pains that would hinder her, limit her. After all she'd endured, after encountering so many people who'd deceived and hurt her, there was nothing in the universe Liselle desired more than respite from it all. To be a body that could not be acted upon, immutable and steady and strong like the people she admired most. She drew the concept of Omega around her like a blanket, wild and free and decadent, and forced into herself a sense of pleasure and accomplishment in having Drialus Lorhan as her precious cargo. She'd heavily participated in what Wasea had identified as a kidnapping whose scale would be immortalized in legend and infamy: the day Lorhan was swept away by a handful of Eclipse and a surprise attack by the batarian powers of the station, the operation over within a single hour.

It no longer mattered if he was to live or die. Liselle had simply succeeded where he had failed, and such was the natural procession of existence for all eternity.

Afterlife finally came into view, burning and brooding. Liselle found an unoccupied platform and lowered the skycar into it, opened the doors, and immediately searched the people milling about the street for a handful of Aria's operatives who could help transport Lorhan. Finally deeming herself safe, Liselle placed a call to Zuria. When she picked up she inquired as to whether Aria was around.

_"She should be here soon,"_ Zuria said. _"At least, she wanted to be present to see the results of a... particular operation."_

"Are you in the club right now?" Liselle asked.

_"Yes, I'm standing in for Aria again."_

Liselle successfully waved down two mercenaries employed to Aria. While they approached her, Liselle spoke again into her communicator, "Well, you should come out for a bit. I think you'd want to handle this."

_"What is it?"_

"Just come out, trust me."

"What do you need, Eclipse?" one of the mercs, a batarian, asked Liselle. She had nearly forgotten the yellow armor still concealing her true allegiance. To allay their budding distrust Liselle produced a screen on her omni-tool, revealing to them her commonly-known name and authorizations granted by Aria's syndicate, and they became instantly more amenable to her requests.

"Help me move him," she said, gesturing to the blindfolded prisoner. "He needs to go to Zuria."

They aided her in removing Drialus Lorhan out of the back seat, keeping their gloved hands wrapped around his restrained arms as they passed through many gawking bystanders during their short trip to the nightclub's entrance. The last thing Liselle ever heard Lorhan utter to her was a hollow, "So, to death, then."

Just as they climbed the steps and passed by the bouncer the doors opened, producing the puzzled lieutenant, who looked upon Liselle in her Eclipse colors with surprise, then realization. Her gaze drifted from the maiden to the man she brought with her, bound and blinded, and she seemed to recognize his profile.

Zuria gave orders without delay, directing the mercenaries, along with several others accompanying her, to move Lorhan to the lower levels of the club as quickly and discreetly as they could, and to not speak to anyone else until they'd deposited him in a secure holding cell. And then her eyes returned to Liselle, who relaxed her shoulders upon being relieved of her tremendous burden. Zuria exhaled and shook her head.

"How did you...?"

Liselle could never formulate an answer concise enough for the lieutenant. Instead she smiled, optimistically seeking her former mentor's approval and fully expected to receive it. But Zuria only grimly swallowed before giving a cracked, untruthful smile in return that only lasted a second.

"I need to debrief you immediately," she said, gesturing back to the club. Together they entered the quieter antechamber where parties often coalesced before emerging onto the main floor. Images of fire danced infernally above their heads. "So you volunteered for the Eclipse job? I thought you were... I thought you were out with your team. Did First Lieutenant Wasea authorize this?" Zuria's expression darkened.

"I think it's _Captain_ Wasea now," Liselle wryly responded. "But she did. I made her."

_"Made_ her?"

"Just... It's a long story. Can we talk in private?"

"Exactly where we're headed," said Zuria. An explosion of music and chatter engulfed them when they strode out into Afterlife's floor, then headed into one of the red halls wrapping around the base of the building. Their destination was the private lounge in which Aria held many of her administrational meetings. _"Made her,"_ she repeated in disbelief. "Who do you think you are, Liselle? Aria?"

They paused in front of the lounge's locked door and faced one another. Liselle had smiled again, thinking Zuria had meant her question in humor, but found little evidence of joy in the matron's face, just as before.


	36. Their Sordid Affair

After Zuria debriefed Liselle and provided her with fresh civilian clothes to replace the garish emblems of the Eclipse, the maiden was directed to remain in Afterlife where she could cool down from her mission in the company of her fellow mercenaries and patrons of shared rulership preference. In the meantime, while they awaited Aria's arrival, Zuria would send someone to retrieve her belongings from the Eclipse outpost and have them delivered to her promptly. Restless, Liselle found Zuria's advisement to linger difficult to obey. After spending some time swiveling anxiously in a bar stool with a half-full drink in hand, watching the new bartender chat up a dancer who was not Anthya, Liselle slipped away from the nightclub, climbed into a cab, and took a trip to Doctor Havlon's infirmary.

There she visited Anthya, whose vertebral swelling had receded enough to free her from the sterile white prison of her mattress, and prescribed both lighter medication and a significantly thinner and less cumbersome brace to wear about her neck for a few more weeks. She was overjoyed to see Liselle stepping into her room, catching her reading one of the books she'd sent her, and left her spot lounging on the hospital bed to greet her with a fond embrace. Although Liselle spoke nothing of the harrowing events that had recently transpired—Drialus Lorhan, the geth, and Daus—she _did_ report that affairs for Aria's syndicate were trending positively, that they were steadily accumulating victories despite encountering numerous setbacks and complications, for their wins always, _always_ exceeded their losses in magnitude.

For a time they happily talked, and Liselle tried her very best to not think of Telycialux Daus. Whenever she did it brought bitter, hurt, angry tears to her eyes, but Anthya's company contained them and salved her despair, at least for the hour.

Anthya shared with her that she would not be returning to work for at least two months, but she would be able to leave the infirmary to work a simple greeter's job for the rest of her recovery period. There she would rejoin the company of her coworkers, the patrons she'd befriended, and Aria, who'd been dreadfully concerned for her health over all this time. The promise of seeing them again very soon fueled her ample optimism.

Setting aside the modicum of discomfort that assailed her upon pondering Anthya's relationship with Aria, Liselle advised her to not let their boss do anything that might aggravate Anthya's condition while her injury was still vulnerable to new disturbances. Anthya merely smiled at the girl's concern and told her not to worry at all. Aria had never done anything to endanger her before, she said. Aria could be demanding and self-serving, but she was not inconsiderate of those she cared for. For them she reserved a gentle hand, and whenever needed, even gentler words. Aria had already previously expressed to her, when they first came to see her on the day she was hospitalized, that all she desired to see Anthya thinking about was her own health, and that she didn't need to worry about Aria at all while she was away. The Queen promised that she would don responsibility and take care of everything. She'd take care of everything and protect her, without fail.

Liselle only returned to Afterlife when she received word of Aria's arrival from her nondescript business trip. Zuria had updated her, saying that Aria wanted to see her immediately. Finding herself in no position to keep her waiting, Liselle said goodbye to Anthya and dutifully obeyed.

She was led to the private meeting lounge, isolated from both the common eavesdroppers and the blaring noise ricocheting endlessly about the main floor, in which Aria waited as poised as confident as she appeared to her lieutenants that frequented this room. Liselle sat down with her on the comfortable red couch, gazing a bit meekly at her mother until she could discern her expression and corresponding mood. Although she'd returned from Lorhan's tower successful, there was no way to predict Aria's reaction to her excessive, and perhaps foolish, amount of displayed initiative. But Aria waited calmly, extending a lazy arm along the back of the sofa with her legs crossed, patently relaxed and unperturbed.

For the very first time Liselle had come to her in the aftermath of a mission or an unsanctioned excursion, Aria was _not_ visibly displeased. This time she was perfectly content, reflecting the inquisitive stare of her daughter as if inviting Liselle to announce her success so she could proceed to graciously validate it. When she noticed Liselle struggling to find adequate words, however, Aria took it upon herself to open their conversation instead.

"Why are you sitting over there?" she asked, gesturing with her line of sight at the significant distance between them on the couch. While Aria occupied one corner, Liselle had huddled herself up in the other. "Come closer. I haven't seen you in a while."

Liselle scooted in, further reassured that Aria was indeed pleased with her, and settled on the next cushion over.

"This operation was... _extraordinarily_ important to me," said Aria. "No one knew about it until it was already underway. Spare units were informed at the last possible minute while uninvolved officers, including my own administration, only knew after the appointment with Lorhan was scheduled to begin. I needed to make sure no intelligence leaked this time. I needed to carefully assemble teams and deploy them as quickly as possible. And it worked out, almost exactly as planned. So... Rasma Visiom reported that she was sending two operatives into the mission, but failed to specify who. And Zuria tells me that you _made_ Wasea include you when you reported to her outpost. Now just how does a common operative hold a high-ranked Eclipse officer at such a disadvantage?"

The maiden blinked. "I... tricked her. Pretended to know something about her division captain stealing money from you and threatened to tell you about it—"

"You don't need to lie to me, Liselle," said Aria. "I think I know what's going on here."

Liselle uncomfortably squirmed.

"And I think I'm going to let it go." Aria closely watched Liselle, interpreting her response as confirming her growing suspicion that Wasea had been the one who led Liselle into Tuhi. "Because she's paid her dues by leading today's capture. No price can be placed on your safety, of course, but this is the closest compensation we'd ever receive from someone indebted to you and me in this manner. I couldn't feasibly hold her to any larger payment, save for the obvious. And the obvious is usually more wasteful than I prefer. But we're not here to talk about Wasea. We're here to talk about you." She paused to place a tender hand on Liselle's shoulder, easing any guilt she might have felt for what could have befallen Wasea had Aria not been feeling merciful. "You didn't do anything wrong today, Liselle. In fact, you did everything impeccably. From meeting and learning about the geth creature to the moment you stepped out of the skycar with Lorhan tied up in the back. I couldn't be more pleased at this point." She retracted her hand.

Liselle beamed at the praise she was bestowed, but soon turned crestfallen upon recalling what had been endured along the way. The traitorous Telycialux Daus, revealing to them all his true allegiance and leaving behind someone he'd once called 'friend' to presumably die at the hands of his employer. When she mentioned this poignant detail, Aria confirmed that she'd been informed by both Zuria and Captain Wasea, who'd recently managed to return to her Eclipse outpost more or less unscathed. Aria agreed that Daus was a great concern, especially when considering the mysterious errand he'd been sent on by Lorhan, but she hadn't known about the new bond that had been growing between the young turian man and her daughter, until Liselle disclosed it to her presently.

"I thought... I thought he liked me," Liselle despondently said. "We promised that we'd look out for each other the whole time. He said he'd do everything he could to make sure we won, but... he didn't even look at me when he left." She lifted a hand to wipe her left eye with her palm, unable to keep from tearing up at her recollection, nor from sniveling. "I thought he liked me."

For a moment Aria observed the pain coursing her, and incisively perceived the very personal nature of Liselle's sense of rejection as being a bit more than simple friends or acquaintances. She'd always anticipated that such a day would arrive, when her daughter first suffered the terrible sense of being insufficient for another's standards, but she hadn't believed the first time would be accompanied by circumstances as cruel as these.

"Liselle," Aria gently said to her, reaching out to wrap her fingers around her wrist. She removed her hand from her face only to replace it with her own, cradling her cheek affectionately, and guided Liselle to face her. "I don't want you to think about him anymore. Because he doesn't deserve to be dwelled on, doesn't deserve your pain. Do _not_ let him hurt you like this, Liselle. When you cry over him it only gives him power over you, something he should never have. Resist it as much as you can." With a thumb she brushed away a tear that escaped the brimming well of Liselle's eyes and came gliding down the curve of her cheek.

At her words Liselle was suddenly plagued by a disorienting wistfulness when she realized just how much she had missed the reliability and care of her mother. She missed her old home, where Iaera and Zuria taught her the world through theory and not traumatizing application, where Liselle never hurt beyond longing. She missed her mother and wished that life could revert to their past state when everything was infinitely simpler, but it was impossible to go back now. The very moment Liselle had decided to step out of her apartment she had bartered her soul to this station, permanently. Some days she felt as though Aria was the only thing left of home, for Iaera had moved on and Zuria no longer mentored her, and she was utterly possessed by the urge to cling to her desperately like flotsam in a shipwreck.

After Liselle nodded and swallowed against the lump in her throat, Aria spoke again, "Sweetheart, I'm going to take care of it. I don't want you to worry about it anymore. For now I just want you to go home and rest, and I'll give you a new assignment in a few days." She brushed her thumb against Liselle's cheek once before returning her hand to its perch on the couch's back. "Also, Liselle... I want you to start thinking about skycar models. Over the last few weeks I've been considering buying you one, and I think it would be proper payment for what you've done for our organization today. I'll buy you anything you like, but don't ask for anything terribly high-end. They attract too much unwanted attention."

"You're... you're serious?" asked Liselle.

"Of course I am. I had my first car when I was thirty. It's not dignified, for my own daughter to be this overdue."

Aria observed Liselle for several more seconds while she finished wiping her face, trying to clean away all evidence of distress. She hadn't meant to cry, especially not because of Daus. She'd known him for several weeks now, but they hadn't even the chance to become exceptionally close over that time. What had hurt most was the manner in which she'd been betrayed and discarded, with very little protest or resistance on his end. It was an assault on her self-worth, threatening to unfairly negate her triumphs.

"Remember, Liselle," Aria said to her, "you did everything right today. Don't let anyone else make you feel as though that isn't true. There's no better feeling for a parent than to be proud of their child, and my pride isn't mistaken nor misplaced. Now go find Zuria and tell her she's done for today—I can handle everything else from here. You two get something to eat."

Liselle nodded a tad sheepishly and leaned in to hug her mother, hearing her say against her head, "And don't forget that I love you," before she drew away, stood, and made for the door.

Once Liselle had departed, Aria placed a quick call to right-hand lieutenant, and gave her a concise set of orders. "Zuria, make sure the notice for Telycialux Daus has reached all ports, docks, and bays, up to Omega Control. I want him brought to me by any means necessary. Alive, preferably... but I might be inclined to overlook a little damage in this case."

She bottled her incendiary outrage and shelved it for a later, more convenient time. She would exact revenge for her daughter by seeing to it that the one who had hurt her would pay in a manner that reflected her pain tenfold. Patience was the only option at the moment, however. If Eruam Anikot had been located against tremendously bad odds, they would certainly achieve the same unlikely result with Daus. And then she would render him unable to harm Liselle ever again. _Physically_ unable, as the ideal scenario.

Just when all had become quiet again, Aria heard a notification sound from the subdermal implant in her wrist, accompanied by a light orange glow projecting the name of an individual requesting contact. Councilor Tevos's name shone on the surface of her wrist, discreetly invading the surface of her skin with characters of pale fire that would not dissipate until she answered or dismissed it. She did the former, quickly checking her encryption level before tapping her communicator to respond in clement familiarity, "Councilor? Already feeling lonely without me?" However, in light of what troubles she'd endured lately, Aria ceased teasing her to probe the situation. "Is everything all right?"

_"Everything is fine, very fine. I had to activate one of my clerical VIs to handle much of the unanticipated... complications yesterday brought. And I'm not at all lonely. It's impossible to be with the VI's grating personality sounding off every few minutes while my aides dart in and out of my office on the hour. One said I shouldn't even be working after what happened yesterday."_

"But you'd never say no to work. You'd be infinitely worse off if you suddenly found yourself with nothing to do." Aria smiled to herself, switching the positions of her folded legs to unconsciously convey her amusement.

_"That's probably more accurate than I'm willing to admit."_

"So, what I could possibly do for you at this time?" Aria idly inspected her left boot, reaching down to lightly brush at an annoyingly faint scuff above the toe.

_"I just need to pass on a message. An invite, rather, to Thessia. Matriarch Medora, along with much of High Command, would like to have you at the annual Armali peace conference next week."_

Aria laughed. It wasn't the low controlled laugh she usually issued when armed with a beautiful rebuttal on the tip of her tongue, but genuine and unrestrained laughter that seemed to catch in her throat before it emerged unapologetically.

_"I don't think I can rightfully fault for you for laughing, but her explanation was that they want to thank you for defending me. We know that was and was not quite the case, but it's an excuse to get you onto Thessia. Attendance may very well be in your best interest. I think she has something of great importance to tell us."_

"I'm going to ask the obvious question here before you say anything more. How can I know this isn't going to be a trap?"

_"I don't have concrete evidence, but I can offer some convincing logic,"_ Tevos replied. _"Could you imagine how the image of the Asari Republics would suffer if violence or an assassination took place at a peace conference? We'd lose credibility and respect for our ways, and High Command would never have that. While the security of our people remains their first and paramount responsibility, our reputation comes in at a close second. If they were to ever place you in danger, it would not be at such a publicized venue."_

Aria pondered. "Do you have any idea as to what she might want to tell us?"

_"None, although it may be related to a predicament we found ourselves in this morning. The rest of the Council has cited a protection clause in our policies of interspecies confidence, demanding that I share with them the intelligence we've obtained about our enemy. As you'd expect, this would also expose our arrangements quite garishly. High Command seemed to have received the official notice before myself, and Medora took swift action by relieving me of responsibility and instead burdened High Command with the disclosure. She protected us, Aria. I think she's quite serious, since she inverted the attack on our collaboration by requesting that the Hierarchy share records of past military operations in or near the Terminus Systems."_

An expression of great interest developed across Aria's previously impassive features. "They're onto him."

_"They seem to be, yes. But how they are 'onto him' remains a mystery, since I haven't shared a single shred of information about either of our prime suspects with any of their council. If you plan to afford my opinion on the matter much consideration, it would be to attend. I think you'd feel adequately safe there. I can even instruct my personal security to guard you as well as a secondary priority."_

Aria scoffed despite the offer's origin in humor. "I don't think I'll require protection. I just wanted to know if I'd be inconvenienced by any disagreeable parties."

_"Inconvenienced?"_

"Mm-hmm." Aria heard some shuffling on the councilor's end, as well as the very faint electronic chirping of a terminal's projected keyboard as Tevos made a series of inputs.

_"So, can we expect you?"_ asked Tevos. _"You can confirm attendance through myself or any of my associates listed on your official invitation, which I'll forward to you right now. It has the coordinates, itinerary, dress code—"_

"Dress code?" Aria echoed.

_"Formal, as you'd expect."_

"And just what are you planning on wearing? Wouldn't want us to clash."

She heard Tevos exhaling in amusement. _"I haven't decided yet. I have several assistants advising me on the matter, and I'll decide within a few days. But you shouldn't worry too much about clashing. Camera drones and reporters are likely to hound us throughout the night, so we should avoid close proximity wherever we can. Besides, I plan to be in the company of Falteus again."_

Aria rolled her eyes upon being reminded of Tevos's vapid military-affiliated companion.

_"I would normally suggest that you bring along a guest yourself, but, it may unnecessarily complicate things when the time comes to rendezvous with Medora."_

"I can think of a few candidates who'd respect my ulterior reasons for being there," said Aria, aiming to irritate her merely for placing Falteus in a position were he would receive more of Tevos's attention than Aria. "My dancer, Anthya, is still recovering and I've forbade her from being active, but I have other choices. I have a fence on Nevos—a very respectable, glamorous, and successful individual. Each time we meet she's infallibly walking the bleeding edge of modern chic. When we were originally acquainted a few centuries ago, the first thing she ever said to me was a sour criticism of the jacket I used to wear. I just _had_ to have her then, and I did. An event like this... she wouldn't be able to resist the opportunity of that much limelight, if I asked her to join me."

Tevos, skillfully sounding only mildly invested, replied, _"So I'm to understand that she insulted your wardrobe choices... but was not instantly struck from your favor?"_

Aria shrugged despite Tevos being unable to witness it, and smiled slyly. "Most of my favorite women are problematic. It's why I like you."

_"Oh Aria, I think you've confused the word 'problematic' with 'strong-willed' or 'unfettered'."_

The patronizing tone, even when utilized in joke, riled Aria. "Or," she said, "if not her, I could always bring by another girl I know from Illium. On the rare occasion when I need to take business trips there I'm always sure to make an appointment with her. Never in my life have I ever been so... thoroughly satisfied by a therapeutic massage. I'd pass on her business card to you, but something tells me you're not very interested in that type of recreation."

_"Not terribly, no. But why exactly would she be an appropriate candidate to accompany you?"_

"How else am I to be entertained while you're politicking?"

_"Do as you please, Aria. I'm glad you've found a suitable diversion, because you might have found my plans for the evening agonizingly dull in comparison."_

A smile spread across her lips. "You have plans?"

_"Well, yes. It would've been rather rude on my part, even neglectful, if I had forgotten a promise I made."_

Knowing precisely what she was referring to Aria feigned a period of consideration, subjecting Tevos to a span of silence as she pretended to weigh the decision in the privacy of her mind. "I think I just might join you, then. Who would I be to deny the asari councilor a chance to prove the measure of her reliability and reputation?"

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

After ending her conversation with Aria and forwarding the invitation, Tevos returned to business as usual for the last stretch of the regular work day. What she had told Aria was true, about her aides periodically checking up on her, asking her if she needed anything in the way of food or drink, or someone to help sort her mail. She appreciated their borderline doting, but they were quickly becoming something of a nuisance. Regular distractions frequently derailed her trains of thought and the accompanying work she performed, forcing her to reread sections and review documents which might've been finished if they'd received her undivided attention, so she had enlisted the help of her office VI to compensate.

Its central module would've been dusty from disuse had not her office been impeccably maintained to godly standards of neatness. Tevos had never preferred the company of virtual intelligence, even those that were useful, solely for the fact that they posed an illusion of true sapient intelligence which provided the comfort of personal interaction, only to occasionally reach explicit walls in its programming, which would always be conversationally declared by the VI in question. Then the illusion would dissipate, reminding Tevos that she was effectively alone in terms of independent thought.

Today she had set aside her mild distate for the sake of efficiency. If Matriarch Medora had been so kind to rescue her from legal responsibility, the very least Tevos could do in the meantime was make a genuine effort to resume work just as Medora had wanted her to. As the representative of an entire race, they could feasibly afford her very little time for recuperation. She needed to remain publicly flexible, stalwart, and of immaculate character and pride, perpetually.

Evening was approaching, consuming what remained of the afternoon blue skies with soft pinks and violets. Speaking with Aria again had considerably repaired her mood, but when she was alerted to a visitor whose name sent a vile chill crawling along her flesh, a great erosion of spirit afflicted her. Initially, she couldn't determine the wisest reaction. The announcement had come so suddenly and unexpectedly that she was left nonplussed on the intercom with Eleni for nearly five seconds before she gave any intelligible response.

"Eleni, would you ask him a question for me?"

_"Of course, Madam Councilor."_

"Can you ask Councilor Estulius what his business is? I'm afraid that I may not be able to see him. I've been very busy all day and I'd like to respond to several high priority correspondences before heading out."

_"Yes ma'am. Just one moment..."_ She left Tevos waiting, quite tensely, until she returned. _"It sounds very serious, Councilor. He said it concerns certain intelligence shared between your higher governments."_

Tevos caught herself staring into endless space. Her expression of surprise had morphed into painfully acute focus, reflecting the rushing stream of thoughts coursing her mind. As they stood, Estulius was after Tevos, attempting to either frighten her or obviate her altogether, and he was unaware that Tevos had identified him as an enemy in reciprocation. He still believed he had the upper hand, regardless of how quickly he was losing it. Perhaps their governments had begun investigating him due to his association with Drialan Gallin. Perhaps he was panicking, and had come to resolve his problems in person.

Her fingers stiffly curled around the stylus she held. She could not deny him an audience, not while he leveraged access to her with such a legitimate-sounding reason. How could she turn an urgent update away? It would shock and offend not only her own embassy, but the turian one as well. It was, by all means, her solemn duty to hold conversation with him now.

But this time she was alone. Aria was light-years away and unable to defend her if she encountered trouble. There was no tremendous ocean of biotics at her back, waiting for the slightest reason to crash violently upon the shores of all who would harm her. She was alone today, and the realization of it, as the notion condensed into irrefutable reality, made her almost shake.

Did Estulius have it within him, to possibly assault or murder another councilor with his own hands? She tried to reel her fleeing wits back in by asking herself this question, to which the answer seemed to be that it was extremely unlikely. He'd never get away with it, not here. Not while Tevos kept her hand warily on her silent alarm beneath her desk, while her emergency verbal phrase teetered on the edge of her tongue. Estulius had no practical power over her. He didn't even outmatch her in information, and could not surprise her with his allegiance or by spinning new lies about Aria. It was entirely possible that he was only present in a final bid to proselytize her into espousing his convictions before all hell broke loose and immolated all that remained of his foray onto Omega.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Aria strode into the dark metal cell with a slight buoyancy in her step, flicking on just one of the buzzing sodium lights mounted in the ceiling to bathe her captive in a glow of burning orange. It was a very familiar scene, albeit with a significant disparity: Aria had opted to undertake the interrogation on her own, barring any mercenaries or even the squeamish Zuria from interfering in the surgical extraction of intelligence. They'd only embarrass her, or worse—impede her satisfaction on the basis of tastefulness.

Before her, Drialus Lorhan sat restrained to the chair Eruam Anikot had died in not two weeks previously, lazily wiped clean of gore in the aftermath so that the malodorous scent of blood mingling with ammonia products still lingered for Lorhan to rightfully fear. She activated a recording on a terminal set on a lonesome table, watching the live graphical analysis of the emitted waveform flicker before her eyes until the settings suited her. And then she approached him; slowly and leisurely, with all her wrath neatly coiled up inside her body where it was not so apparent, and he lifted his chin to express what mettle he retained.

As before Aria removed her jacket and unhurriedly drew a chair up to him in which she seated herself. She was devoid of all telling emotion beyond an ominous patience.

"Do you know why so few Eclipse mercenaries were able to outmaneuver your tower's forces?" Aria gently asked him.

He didn't reply.

"It was because so many of my mercenaries have faith in an idea. Passionate, zealous _faith_ in the idea that I alone am the best ruler Omega has ever seen. Whereas your mercenaries are motivated by a _payroll_. They don't actually relish the idea of fighting for you, and in many cases they'll decide that fleeing for their lives or keeping their heads down during a firefight is worth more than a wage. The only worse type of soldier, I've seen, are _slave_ soldiers. Live or die... most just want to be rid of their masters." She paused to nonchalantly examine her nails. "By the way, your tower is in my possession now. They surrendered the moment I sent out reinforcements to secure the area, and I'm already opening negotiations with your forces. Most of them are interested in working for me. What do you make of that, Drialan?"

He nearly flinched at the usage of his true name. "I'm not a foolish man," he said. His voice was relatively calm, but his quivering gaze told a contradictory tale. "I know when I've been defeated, and I know when to submit to impossible circumstances. I've mulled it all over while I waited in here. I think you'll be pleased to know that I can be of tremendous use to you, much like my remaining forces."

Aria said nothing in reply. She merely folded her hands over the back of her reverse-facing chair and afforded him only the anemic comfort of silence. Lorhan faintly squirmed, uncomfortably straining against the binds around his arms and legs.

"Useful to you if kept _intact_ , I might add," he said.

"Why intact?" Aria asked. "How intact does a smuggler-baron need to be to hold conferences and manage his trade routes?"

He sealed his rough lips in reaction to her malice, then parted them again to bravely make his appeal. "It is more accurate to say that there isn't any need, necessarily, to enact vengeance. My feud with your syndicate was neither direct nor personal. I followed the example of those who presented me the best offer, like any reasonable businessperson would. I made money, Aria. I made much of it through this venture, but now that the cash flow has run dry, my loyalty is no more so long as the proverbial drought persists. I consider my friends to be those weilding the superior offer, the best bargain, and now that you are in that position, I would encourage you to take the opportunity."

"The best bargain," Aria echoed his glib words as a wicked smile played across her lips, curling in morbid, dangerous amusement. "Here you sit at the edge of your life after costing me inestimable damages... and you still entertain the possibility of being in a position for bargaining? At least you have gall. More than I thought you did."

"Please, allow me to make my case. I present myself and all the intel I have amassed regarding the powers attempting to usurp you. I have names, locations, descriptions of technology and weapons. You need not strain yourself through this interview. I will be readily compliant in anything you desire."

Aria leaned back to observe him, tapping a pensive finger against the edge of her metal chair until she had made a decision. "Start talking."

Lorhan gladly forfeited his knowledge, just as he'd promised. "Well, I'm certain you're eager to hear it all from the top. The operation was borne from the minds of Primarchs. Primarch Kylris Estulius among them, who took to a private forum to deliberate on the persistent issue of pirate attacks on Traverse worlds. They discussed the topic at great length, trying to contrive some semblance of policy, military or diplomatic, to reduce the occurrences. At the time it wasn't very different from the usual politicking, but then Omega came up. Consequently, Aria T'Loak's syndicate came up—the effective hub of Terminus power and influence, to which dozens of organized pirate groups have formed alliances. But you let them raid. Your conditional allowance was found out several years ago, about how you turn a blind eye to the raids as they happen, then receive payments from the victimized colonies and business on the promise that you will forbid and stem the raids, only to—presumably—share a cut of profits with the corsairs themselves to keep them interested. The racketeering here is ingenious in its careful finesse. No one had ever caught you in the act. So, after identifying you as a potent determinant in the frequency of raiding, the Hierarchy reviewed your treaty with High Command and subsequently contacted them. They held conference, where it was determined that you were in violation of treaty, but only in principle. There is no true condition in that treaty which holds your syndicate accountable for piracy you have not expressly ordained. Legally they cannot extradite you, so long as you operate within the parameters of the loophole you've discovered. Despite this, several Primarchs and several matriarchs vocalized their detest for your apparent dishonesty and raised the possibility of this being the first infraction in a series of many future ones, all of increasing severity. They concluded that they've lost control of you. They began to fear they can't keep you in check for much longer. One Primarch proposed that they take measures to depose you preemptively."

"Which Primarch proposed that?" Aria asked.

"Many followed suit, but... the first who presented that potential course of action, noncommittally at the time, was indeed Kylris Estulius. A great debate arose from that, dividing the governments and instilling immense worry over whether this could ever be done without triggering a full-scale war. Formally, the idea was abandoned. Some Primarchs eagerly voted for Kylris Estulius for the office of turian councilor simply on the merit of his anti-Terminus rhetoric, but they never presumed that he was already sifting through classified military files to locate myself and our other former platoon member, Marus Visiom. While I was here on Omega when he found me, Marus was on Palaven. He had to fake his death to come here. It involved a high-speed rail and some serious collateral damage, but he was successful. "

"Tell me more about Marus. Tell me what role he has in this and where I can find him."

"Oh, he's not far at all. He tends to base operations in Doru, where their central bunker lies. Marus Visiom has been tasked with training the operatives assembled from Omega, usually those picked up from slums and districts where you're still disfavored. He appeals to their discontent. He promises them a golden world with law, order, and safe jobs once government arrives. He tells them they'll never be hungry again. He tells them they'll never have to sleep with knives under their pillows ever again. This is a dream to many and they'll fight to the death for it."

"I know you got on board for the money," Aria said. "But what about Visiom? What were his motivations?"

"It was because of his son, Aetius. About ten years ago, when Marus learned about his son's journey to Omega to sate his appetite for hard drugs and gangs, he grew reclusive. Let his marriage fall apart and dropped out of contact. When Kylris managed to locate him and contact him with an offer, Marus agreed to join us without even requesting compensation. In retrospect it's likely that he repressed too much from our skirmishes during psychological counseling, and I only say that because his first inclination was to simply sabotage Omega's central reactor and obliterate this station from existence. But Kylris, of course, forbade that type of mindset. Omega is too well-situated, too strategic of a territory to let go to waste. Kylris wanted this place for military occupation. He wanted to use the relay to easily supply Omega with ships, provisions, and troops, until this region was tamed. The only way to do this, however, was by installing a new de facto leader who would enable this transformation."

"The people would've revolted long before the first turian ship arrived in Sahrabarik," Aria sneered. "Any leader who invites government power onto Omega is setting themselves up for public execution by their own mercenaries."

"Well, tell that to Marus. Over these last several months he's tailored his revolution to appeal to more people than you'd expect. He's promised them a leader who widely cares for their well-being. One that... a matriarch from Asari High Command offered to provide independently of the rest of her council, claiming that she was the best candidate due to the long lifespans of their species ensuring a certain amount of stability over the next several decades. I'm afraid I was never informed of her identity, or even that of her agent."

"Would such a 'leader' even last a day against other organizations scrambling for power?"

"Likely. She would've had Marus's forces, along with my own, at her back."

"And when it became apparent that Omega was destined for military occupation and not change of... domestic policy, how would you have responded to the riots? The bloodbath?" There was copious challenge in Aria's question, and her blue eyes bore a glint of terrible violence.

He shrugged. "It was decided, that if the population could not be controlled, our loyal forces would evacuate the station under the guise of exile only to leave a covert team of engineers and mercenaries behind, who would disable Omega's environmental systems and abscond shortly before we'd remotely lock down the station. A bit extreme or even, well, _apocalyptic_ , I agree... but it was the original failsafe."

Aria's steely expression never faltered, but the language of her body had grown so tense with anger that at any moment she might have strangled the man for daring to be complicit in completely purging Omega of its very soul, simply because the people had refused to elevate his allies as their leader. Aria could not imagine herself being so desperate, so infuriatingly impotent and lacking control, to resort to such measures, and hoped she never would be. What then would she be, as a ruler of an empty station? Reigning over the void, a nothing economy, where corpses lined the streets and stained the world with the putrid stench of decay? She'd become death, but very little else.

"For a time we organized quietly," Lorhan continued. "I found an ingenious group of quarian medical scientists with the expertise to preserve and rewire an organic nervous system with geth infrastructure. These hybrids would become our weapons... but average cadavers were only ever that—average in potential. We needed high-quality subjects. So I ran drug shipments purchased from Parem Igrahal's clandestine outfit on Camala, sent them back through Sahrabarik, and from here to the Citadel smuggled along with my usual spice exports, to garner the fury of the Council who would, as expected, send in Spectres. The matriarch had an agent, Kiava Vathesa, ready to spring the trap. And it worked. We caught one."

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Tevos allowed the indecorous man access to her realm.

Estulius strode into her office with grave severity on his face, respecting his story of bearing serious news, but it also concealed any malicious intent that might've lied just beneath the surface of his weathered facial plating. Without a word Tevos gestured to the empty chair near her desk, bidding him to sit, but her inhospitably frigid gaze had him canting his head in question and his eyes traveling the length of her arm to where it disappeared just under her desk.

"Councilor Tevos," he began, "are you... well?"

"I am," she answered.

"Well... good, then." The forced reply was blatant, but Estulius quickly recovered and donned his best cordiality. "My apologies for interrupting your desk work. I confess that I was rather inundated myself, but I had little choice but to come here to speak with you. My government is now investigating one of my former platoon members, Drialan Gallin. It is highly suspected that he's taken on a pseudonym and established himself on Omega, where he wages war against Aria T'Loak. It is also suspected that he was, to some degree, responsible for Spectre Neora Sarthis's murder. I am... unsettled. I know not what to make of all this."

"I regularly feel the same," said Tevos.

"Has your... Asari High Command, spoken of any countermeasure? If we combine our efforts and act quickly, we may be able to address this threat in a way that does not upset any delicate treaties. I only ask to participate as an ambassador between our governments, for this circumstance."

Tevos ascertained his purpose. Estulius was here to probe for information, to brace himself and Gallin for the inevitable and potentially develop a clever defense in time. She would not grant him the vaguest shade of hope.

"Not at this time," she said. "It may be several days before either of our peoples are willing to even start considering a plan of action. If Drialan Gallin is truly antagonistic to the Council, their investigation must present an impressive preponderance of evidence. It would be incredibly dangerous to act hastily within the Terminus Systems. Attacking the wrong target would prove... disastrous."

"Yes, absolutely. You are very correct; we shall just have to... I suppose we'll have to sit quietly and wait until a conclusion has been made. For now, I have one more question for you, Councilor."

Tevos gave a cautious nod, permitting him to ask his question.

He reclined comfortably in his chair, folding his hands in front of his middle, confidently. "What in the universe endeared you to an individual such as Aria T'Loak?"

Shock had imprisoned her in silence. Tevos merely stared at him, desperately waiting for an elaboration that would turn the terrifying question benign. It never arrived.

"I mean... I find it absolutely confounding that one who takes such pride in a reputation of integrity and fairness could consort with a detestable, well, _tyrant._ I find myself lacking the facilities to properly understand, so I was hoping that you'd be able to explain more clearly."

"...Explain what?" Tevos asked when she had finally recovered her voice.

"Explain this." From a pocket in his well-tailored raiment Estulius produced a holodisk and passed it to Tevos. Seeing her hesitance, he gestured to her private terminal, calmly encouraging her to play it.

Tevos looked down into the palm of her hand, scrutinizing the small bit of metal and polymer and detecting a quality in it so foreboding that she nearly lifted her head again to outright refuse. Such a reaction would incriminate her just as well as anything the disk might have contained. Favoring the unknown diminutively more than certain exposure, she eventually complied.

Her terminal projected the sound file. It took a mere instant to recognize the voices, and conversation, that reached their ears.

_"Aria, you need to call off your assault now. Don't ask me to explain. Simply trust me when I say that you need to retreat from the refinement plant immediately—"_

_"What the hell are you on about? We've already stormed the plant and occupied it. Yes, it was rigged with a few bombs here and there but they weren't much of an issue. Otherwise it's completely deserted, and I've only been able to send in a small company to infiltrate a possible escape route. I appreciate the concern but it's coming a little too late to be useful."_

_"You need to listen to me, Aria._ _You need to leave_ now. _There are two gunships approaching your location as we speak._ "

As the file continued relaying the rest of the conversation, Estulius spoke his mind, mingling his voice with those of the recording. "Such... fascinating _hubris_ is demonstrated here. To extort technology from a suspicious source and believe that it can be altered and repurposed enough to prevent exploitation by those who developed it. That channel used that day... was even more compromised than the file that will follow this one, which I admit was obtained through very difficult and risky means. It waited as an original copy for weeks until it could be physically delivered to those with a lucrative use for it."

_"At the very least I should try to be seen in friendly company. I never once thought I'd ever have a use for tabloid attention..."_

_"Do you want to stop?"_

_"Do I want to—? I—no. No, as I said before, we only need to be more discreet about it... Do_ you _want to stop?"  
_

_"Unlike you I'm in no risk of major consequence, and I'm perfectly comfortable with things as they are. So, no."_

Tevos slowly turned her eyes upon Estulius. She beheld him, lips slightly parted in disbelief as an amalgam of fear and shock seized her body. "How did you get this...?" she hollowly breathed.

"I'm sure that isn't the most pressing question on your mind right now. And you still haven't answered mine."

Faced by the atrocious breach of security poised to defame her, Tevos's inner deliberation flailed for a solution. The time for tact had ended. She was now possessed by a terrible fury, an indignity so concentrated it crashed through her composure and emerged on her lips as a series of statements uttered so tightly they might've shattered. "You... I know your hand in all this. High Command does as well. And I have tolerated you and your lies long enough. You... are a despicable, ignoble, unworthy _shadow_ of what a councilor should be, and you _will_ see justice for your warmongering."

Estulius seemed impervious to her insult. "But will _you_ see justice for your fraternization?" he turned the question back onto her, then shrugged. "They may or may not dig up enough to convict me. Who knows, maybe the Hierarchy will deem my peripheral involvement dismissible enough to cover it up, or maybe I'll enter a plea bargain and receive some political protection. The alternative would reflect poorly on my people, as you'd expect. I still have options. But as for yourself, Councilor Tevos... you're probably more concerned about your credibility at this point. Government investigations can be carried out quietly, but a scandal publicly distributed through the extranet... I don't believe that would be as easily cleaned up."

She maintained her cold glare. "This could be seen as a fabrication. Calumny."

"Perhaps," said Estulius. "But conversation will inspire inquiry, perhaps even from High Command. I don't believe they'd be pleased to watch their highest ambassador flounder in accusation and distrust. They'd likely want to apprehend whether these allegations have any basis in fact, and if they do, it couldn't be tolerated due to the endangerment of Council Space security. However... you may be surprised to hear that you still have options, too."

Tevos declined to humor him with a response. She instead fixated on the faint scars decorating his face; the brutal penmanship of pirates who'd spurned him decades ago, and wondered if they remembered Estulius as vividly as he remembered them. As she stared hard at him, the recording continued to play and brought heated agitation seething just beneath the surface of her cheeks.

_"You're sexy when you're ruthless."_

_"Are you going to start writing my name in the margins of your journal now, Aria? Encircled by hearts, maybe?"_

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

"Doctor Faesa'Xeer was... a bit of an unexpected asset," said Lorhan. "You see, she, like the other living hybrids, was formally deceased but unlike them she was nevertheless self-aware and endowed with the ability to communicate with other geth. You know this by reports sent to you by now, without a doubt. I cannot actually speak with her beyond the sharing of visual experience, but... there have been times when she's looked directly at something for a long span of time, as if she meant for me to see it. I recall one recent instance where she stared at one of the patients at Parem Igrahal's hospital. Stared for an obscene amount of time as they dozed in a lounge area. Then she looked downward to her arm, where she then gruesomely carved by the dulled edges of her nails the word 'slaves' in a Palaven dialect. Perhaps she thought we didn't know and desired to inform me, being under the impression that our operation was truly one to liberate Omega."

Aria scoffed. "Who would've bothered to tell her? No one sympathetic to Igrahal, of course. It's bad for business when your clients are so multicultural."

"Well, perhaps her colleagues. The quarians. It seems that they've tried to keep her in the dark, but... she's proven remarkably resourceful." Lorhan leaned in as far as he could, until the restraints pressed into his carapace, and lowered his voice to an extent where it wouldn't have been picked up by the recording. "I see a threat in her. Who can predict the capabilities she'll develop once the quarians acquire enough hardware to upgrade her transmissions? Remote hacking? Espionage? In my opinion, you'd be wise to either capture or eliminate a liability such as her." He straightened out his posture again.

"Why the whispers, Drialan? Speak up."

He directed his gaze to the terminal recording the interrogation. The waveform settled into a flatline when they both grew quiet, then jumped energetically to life again when Aria spoke.

"I'm not unmindful. I set up the recording with clear intention." She drew near, carrying a deadly edge in her voice. "I wanted Nazara to hear. Wanted her to realize what she's contending with. What'll happen if I find out she'd aided our enemy creatures in any form, or plans to in the future. Though I am curious, Drialan... if you planned to swear fealty to me, why would you fear her retaliation? Unless you planned to rejoin her cause at one point, and only sold her out in hopes that you'd impress me."

"No, no; that isn't what I meant by it! I already expressed that we cannot know the extent of her—"

Aria suddenly bolted up from her own chair and kicked Lorhan's over with a well-aimed strike from her sole. With a surprised shout and a heavy clatter he fell back against the floor, momentarily disoriented until Aria pressed the heel of her boot into his throat. Terror swam in his eyes as Aria crouched over him, gripped the hard fringe of his crest, and pulled his head back until the tip lightly clicked against the cold floor. She was looking at his eyes with an almost voracious aspect in hers, wild and untamed as if hunting a priceless, fabled jewel.

"W-what are you—" Lorhan began. Panic surged throughout his body when he witnessed Aria drawing a long, thin knife from a discreet sleeve sewn to the inside of her boot. "Hold on! Hold on! You don't have to go about it like that! There's an easier method for removal—!"

"Really? You have five seconds to explain it."

"J-just grip with two fingers at twelve and six o'clock, twist counterclockwise, and gently pull until the optic nerve—"

"Time's up," Aria announced and thrusted her hand downward, following his instructions precisely. That is, up until the point where he was cut off. With more abrupt and ruthless force than what was strictly necessary she ripped the mechanical organ straight out of the socket, drawing along with it a pulse of blood dribbling onto his brow. Lorhan cried out hoarsely in pain, thrashing in his chair as he frantically opened and shut his eyelids in shock.

Ignoring him, Aria held the orb up to the amber shafts of light, and through the wafting particles of dust beheld its elegantly simple design: a mere lens that produced images of greater clarity than any natural asari or turian eye ever had, but removed from the usual filaments that would encircle it in certain smaller geth platforms to produce the hallmark halo of bright light.

So this was it, she thought. A trophy to prove her superiority over augmented life, over those weaponized bodies who had mistakenly believed that they were inherently advantaged and better outfitted to survive the atrocious and glorious violence of Omega.

There was no being in the universe that could depose her. This only proved it.

"Are you actually going to kill me?" Lorhan interrupted her thoughts.

Aria decided to torment him. "It would be the wisest course of action, wouldn't you think?" She examined the peculiar violet gleam produced by the lens when held at certain angles against the light. "Removing unnecessary liabilities."

"You can't," he said. "While Kylris would know by now that I've been captured, he doesn't know if I'm alive or not. I've told him on a previous occasion that if news ever reached him that I'd been imprisoned, I would contact him within three days, and if I ever failed to, he should presume I'm dead and act accordingly. He has a contingency plan for this event. Telycialux Daus would have delivered to him the key component of it, just this afternoon. That was the errand I sent him on. If Kylris finds out I'm dead... your asari councilor ally will be ruined by what that package contained."

The faint, muffling scraping of Aria's heel could be heard when she lowered the mechanical eye pinched between her fingers and turned to face him. The light of the sodium lamp gleamed off the crown and crest of her head as she demanded, with painfully bright and alert focus etched into her features, that he elaborate without delay. "What did you give him?" she asked, clenching her jaw to contain the tension straining to erupt on her voice.

"Audio files," he confessed. "A few tapped conversations. They're enough to prove your sordid affair, or whatever it was."

Aria quietly exhaled though her lips and placed her hands on her hips—the one containing the eye using her curled knuckles to maintain the contemptuous position. "And Estulius... has these files? He has them in hand as we speak?"

"If Daus wasn't intercepted at any point during his trip... yes. He does."

She nodded as if she'd been admitted into a educational lecture and gleaned from it several pieces of information she hadn't possessed before. "I..." For the first time in a very long time, Aria seemed to grasp for words. "I... have an offer for you, Drialan."

"...An offer?"

"Yes." Without any overt urgency, Aria strode over to the table containing the terminal and carefully placed the mechanical eye upon it before returning to Lorhan's overturned chair. She pulled it back onto its four feet with minimal effort and, to the turian's great surprise, unfastened his restraints.

Confused and wary, he sat motionlessly for a time, too fearful of Aria's intentions to take advantage of the opportunity.

"Stand up," she brusquely ordered him. When Aria reached for the heavy pistol at her belt his lonely eye widened, but she tossed it carelessly to the side along with the harness piece of her corset upon which she carried her arsenal. Aria stood before him revealing more skin than he had ever seen of her, with only the basic component of her black corset to cover her torso. Cautiously, he complied.

"I'm going to give you a chance to leave, Lorhan," she said, shoulders lightly heaving with blooming impatience as she wrung her hands together, loosening tendons and knuckles, and relaxing muscle. "A chance to be rid of me forever."

"Wait... what do you mean? I..." Lorhan suddenly realized her meaning. "I... I was just a pilot, a navigator, a negotiator! My combat training was minimal and I haven't seen a fight in decades—"

"Then learn quickly." There was merciless venom in Aria's voice when she lunged forward and smashed her clenched fist into the tender flesh beneath his jaw, sending Lorhan reeling and staggering ingloriously to the floor. "Get up!" she snapped at him. When he didn't, Aria gripped him by the front of his wrinkled attire and hauled him back to his feet just so she could send him back there with another fierce blow.

She couldn't believe she'd been bested in any arena by such a pathetic man. Searching for satisfaction in the sight of his blood she pursued him, hating the way he crawled and writhed, hating how he thought himself enough to ruin the lives of people vastly superior to him from where he had cowered feebly in his tower. There would never be a retribution sweet enough to overpower the bitterness gathering in her mouth.

Lorhan trembled and shuddered in a heap, trying to drag himself away and hide in the corner of the room. A mere shell of a criminal lord, Aria judged him. No power, no respect for his own beliefs, no passion, no _purpose_. Only empty greed without direction.

She kicked him in the side with the reinforced toe of her boot to hear him plead, and began to regret not leading her officers into his territory years ago to kill him and refurbish his tower into a second-rate spa or casino. If she had, they would've never been in this predicament. If she had not hesitated. If she had not been merciful. If she had not waited for long ages to gradually emaciate him of wealth and make the takeover easier.

But not even listening to him beg and grovel for his life was gratifying, not like it was when Aria brought more noble quarries into this cage. Watching powerful enemy drug lords and mass murderers kneel whimpering at her feet, reducing themselves to wretched little worms before her, instilled a tremendous pleasure within her core that could not be replicated here no matter how badly she wounded Lorhan. He was already a wretched little worm. There was no transformation to enjoy, no new assertion of dominance, because it had already been clearly established long ago. This time, it was all maddeningly redundant.

Aria pushed him into the chair a final time, paying little mind to how he bled and clutched at himself in pain, and opened the mail client on her omni-tool.

"Speak to him," she commanded. "To Estulius. Tell him you're alive." She thrust the glowing interface toward him.

"K-Kylris...? Kylris, I'm alive. I'm currently d-detained by... by you know who. Please, if you have the package, _do not_ distribute it. Kylris... we can't keep doing this. We're at our end." He coughed, covering his mouth with his sole hand to catch the blood and spittle. "We've lost, Kylris. Please, don't make this harder than it has to be. I just... I just want to get out of here, Kylris. Don't distribute the package. I don't want to die in here."

Aria sent the message along through an anonymous account. It would soon appear in the inbox of one of Estulius's secretaries at the turian embassy, who would alert him at once. She noticed a peculiar sound emanating from Lorhan's chair. The man had begun to weep. Spitefully, Aria faked an aggressive lunge toward him, abruptly cancelling it by pressing opposing force against the floor with her right foot, but the motion served its purpose. Lorhan recoiled violently, raising his arms to protect his head from a punishment that never came.

She wouldn't kill him. At least, not until several days at minimum had passed. Normally Aria would've taken the time to forcefully extract his knowledge through a meld, but her mood had turned so foul she feared that if she had to wade through his sobbing and pleading for more than three seconds it might've frustrated her to point where she _actually_ killed him.

There would be time for more interviews, starting the next day. And they needed to be daily—with communications potentially still compromised, Aria thought it imperative to wait until the conference on Thessia before she even fathomed sharing what she had learned with Tevos.

Leaving his proximity, Aria stepped back over to the table holding the mechanical eye and her terminal, where she sat down and accessed a converter program, along with a geth schematic in a second window for her to reference. Improvisation with typical devices of torture she'd brought but neglected to use during that session, Aria wiped away the blood and bits of tissue still clinging to the severed conduits extending out of the back of the eye and used a pair of pliers to manipulate them. After spending some time grafting the wires responsible for transmitting images to a universal cable she hooked up the device to her terminal and was greeted by a live feed of what was being seen on the other end.

There was little doubt that Nazara had been waiting to communicate with Aria. She had a sight prepared for her; the interior of desolate personal quarters, but on the wall there waited a message written in shaky but deliberate script by a red wax pencil meant for marking laboratory glassware, beseeching quite cryptically:

_Witness my death._

Beneath it there were drawn a series of threateningly jagged lines in sinusoidal nature, detailed profusely. A moment of contemplation was all that was required before Aria identified them as sound waves, upon which she converted the image file to a waveform with ease and played it for herself.

_"Remember, Liselle, you did everything right today... And don't forget that I love you."_

A coldness so bone-deep and arresting gripped Aria that she barely paid any mind to the way Lorhan peered at her with his bludgeoned face, bewildered by the words sounding on Aria's voice. Her mind had been compromised by a single gruesome thought. _Murder;_ dripping with wild, inexorable certainty and a wrath so cosmic that any occurrences of similar magnitude had gone unseen in a millennium.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Estulius composedly went on. "You realize... I obtained this recording as a result of carelessness, but not your carelessness, Councilor Tevos. You are cautious, meticulous. Aria T'Loak is not. Not with her lovers, because they aren't part of her syndicate. She closely guards what means most to her, but when it comes to outside affairs it seems she just can't be bothered to be discreet. She never had anything to lose. She even said so." He indicated Tevos's terminal. "Do you really still hold her in high regard, when she recklessly gambles the fate of your career?"

"Exposure was neither of our intentions, but I knowingly consented to the level of risk. Either way, you will not turn me against the one who saved my life against your hireling."

"You are quick to assume, Councilor," he said. "But that's behind us. The matter that remains is deciding what your future will entail, over which you retain a surprising amount of influence. You see, I don't find any joy in the idea of hurting you. I would never have done such a thing if I didn't have to. It doesn't have to play out this way, Tevos. You have the power to change things if you like. I have already made a few arrangements to your benefit. At your peace conference next week, there will be a turian woman waiting for you. She will have on her face orange colony emblems, waiting along the east wall of the dining area whilst escorting an asari magnate along with her hanar spouse. Don't bother trying to arrest her; she knows nothing beyond very simple instructions, and is under the impression that she's combatting the threat of batarian terrorism. Accost her and inquire as to whether she has anything for a headache. She will you give you a vial and her contact information. The vial contains _medicine_ for your problem. It can be most effectively applied later on when you're... alone... in your room. Pour it into your companion's drink and watch all your problems magically disappear. There's no pain. It'll be like falling asleep. Then you will contact the turian woman again and confirm your success. Everything after that will be thoroughly taken care of for you."

The audacity of his plan was staggering. Leaders assassinating leaders... was there any sense left in the galaxy? Or any perspective of consequence, for that matter? Aria's syndicate was not stupid. The sudden disappearance of their ruler after attending a Thessian conference to ostensibly exploit a relationship with them, would not go unnoticed. They'd vehemently demand and threaten to know what had become of her, all the way up to war. Even if Estulius could not wrap his head around it, or perhaps it was his deranged intent all along, there was virtually no manner in which Aria could be neutralized in their territories which would not trigger a massive conflict.

"And what if I refuse?" Tevos asked with needle-sharp temperament.

"If you haven't contacted my agent by midnight, the next day you will see me appear live, issuing a morning address. I don't think I need to describe what it will contain in an addendum." Estulius placed his hands on the arms of his chair to leverage his rise, preparing to depart. Before he did, he paused to say one last thing to Tevos. "I remind you, Councilor. It doesn't have to be this way. It's entirely your choice, and I earnestly hope to see you make the right one. Oh, and don't bother saving the recording you've probably made of this meeting. It's grounds to publish this all the same."

Her grip around her stylus only discreetly tightened further.

"I am trying to save this galaxy, Tevos. I am trying to unite it under a mantle of imperial peace. Is that not what you want?"

"Not by these means," she said.

"Well, we shall all see within several days, to whom your loyalty primarily belongs: the Council... or Omega."

"My primary loyalty belongs to neither," Tevos firmly asserted, capturing his attention for a but a moment more. "My primary loyalty is to the people of Council Space, who I have sworn to protect to the bitter end."

When he left, Tevos mirthlessly told her VI, whose translucent, hovering interface had hidden itself where Aria once had, to archive the audio recording she had initiated before Estulius stepped into her office. Unable to comprehend the gravity of the situation it obeyed without qualm and cheerfully whirred along, asking her if there was anything else she required. Not at all in any mood to reply, she had it enter hibernation mode.

There she sat at her desk for a time, distraught to the point of dissociation. Was she afraid, she asked herself? Yes. She was very afraid. Estulius would paint her a dishonest woman, devoid of morality and decency, and she would lose her office and bear a deplorable reputation for the rest of her life, blacklisted across numerous political professions and her word stripped of all clout, provided that her charges were not framed as excessively criminal.

But Estulius's ultimatum meant nothing to her. Not even for the briefest moment had Tevos actually considered harming Aria. If her loyalty and principles led to her own demise, she had decided, then so be it. She would not demean herself to Estulius's level, where he tied himself to everything he could bring down with him in a fiery, spiteful shower of mutually-assured destruction. If there lingered any trace of higher meaning in this dizzying conflict as it approached its messy close, it existed within the substance of conviction, and no amount of aspersion nor arraignment would convince Tevos that she was mistaken in refusing to betray Aria's trust.

She was going to suffer for it; for all their indulgent urges and desires, and plotting and steering the very course of history to suit their dual preference.

But how would have pure sanctimony on her part protected the galaxy, if it only led to setting their worlds ablaze with the war Estulius evidently coveted? Moral high ground was but a luxury for those who had comparably little to lose, who had no investment nor care about the rise of a disastrous new precedent. It was an illusion for those who enjoyed a delightfully simple world, where everything was suspended between a limited binary of extremes, where Aria lied magnificently in the middle posing an amorphous, iridescent shade which could never be named; not by persons of limited scope who couldn't perceive nor comprehend her in that treacherous zone of ambiguity.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

When there was a commotion at the door of the dreary capsule-home, Hiral was the one to admit Aria and her two accompanying commandos. All occupants, even those employed to her such as Rasma Visiom and Malak Lekahn, were thoroughly shocked at her unannounced intervention in their mission to learn more about the quarians who had constructed the deadliest weapons their syndicate had ever faced. With lethal regality she strode down the hall, neglecting to inform anyone of her purpose, until she had found her prey: the one called Nazara, sitting placidly in her room with her message to Aria having been wiped away into smears of red wax on the steel of the wall. Like before, she was awaiting her.

Aria gestured for the mercenaries to leave them alone. Once they had evacuated for their privacy, Aria sat down before the peculiar being and asked with little hesitation, "Who else knows?" She switched off the safety of her heavy pistol and leveled the barrel at Nazara.

"Only myself," she replied. "Asari High Command's agent has tapped you in more ways than you realize. Drialus Lorhan's eye was not the only one that ever existed on Omega, you recall. There were other methods for streaming information to me. Transcription of live bug feeds, projected upon the ceiling while no one ever thought it could still perceive."

_The Spectre's corpse_ , Aria realized. She immediately tapped her communicator to relay a short message to her lieutenant, "Zuria, get down to where Havlon's keeping the Spectre's remains. Remove the remaining optic, bag it, and conceal it until I arrive there. Sweep the lounges for bugs while you're at it." When she turned back to Nazara, Aria proceeded to ask her, "Why haven't you shared this information with anyone? Are you trying to consolidate its value through exclusivity?"

"No. I haven't shared it because harm would come to Liselle. And she is the only one left who has a chance at stopping you."

Aria softly but cruelly laughed, cocking the pistol while shaking her head. Her smile vanished in an instant. "Don't fuck with me. Tell me the real reason."

"I did. I only sought this information because it would bring you to me." Nazara began sliding her hand over the arm of her chair, moving toward a compartment.

"Don't even think about it," Aria cautioned her.

"I would like to show you something. Proof."

"...Move your hand," she ordered. When Nazara obeyed, Aria took it upon herself to access the discreet compartment herself; pressing two fingers into a perforation that was to be peeled away from a hidden drawer. Inside were two tiny vials containing a translucent substance, which Aria held to the light for examination, both pinched between her index finger and thumb. They boasted the faintest yellow hue.

"The analgesic," Nazara explained. "The biotoxin extract. Vil'Yelva would pass them to Telycialux Daus whenever he arrived for a patient delivery."

"So what is this?" Aria asked as she lowered her hand to pocket the vials. "Your confession? Are you surrendering to me?"

"In a sense, maybe that's accurate. I have outlasted everything I shouldn't have. He used them. Vil'Yelva. Used the moribund patients for my body. Do you know what I'm made of, Aria T'Loak? I am quarian no longer. I am merely the flesh of slaves, unwillingly conscripted even beyond death itself." The light of Nazara's eyes seemed to quaver as she reached to the front of the robes shrouding her excessively, keeping her motions patently harmless to avoid unnecessarily provoking Aria. When she peeled the fabric downward to expose shallow ridges of bone and inner cables protruding from her severe emaciation, Aria saw that the flesh covering them was varicose and chimeric in hue and apparent texture. What she had said was undeniably true—Nazara could scarcely even be called quarian anymore.

Anyone else might have been unsettled or sickened by the scars of old stitching and incongruous cooperation of innumerable bodies held in one. But Aria had lived long and seen the outsides and insides alike of many beings, and the only reaction Nazara's physique could draw from her was a mildly perplexed downward trend of her brow.

"And do you know what you are?" Nazara asked. She straightened out her robes.

"What am I?" Aria humored her.

"You're no different. A profane conflation of your innumerable murders, the absorption of lives and homes and surviving associates into the bloated patchwork monster you control now. A beast so ravenous that one day it will rupture and collapse beneath its own weight, but not before it's licked the bones of the very last soul on Omega."

"Nice try, but I've heard worse, more original, and more accurate," said Aria. "Now... where is High Command's agent, and what does she know?" She reached forward, extended one arm, and wrapped her fingers stiffly around Nazara's frail throat. "Or will I have to ask assertively?"

"Much, little," came her divested response. "Both."

Aria's grip began to tighten. "What's her name? Don't test my patience. I know how to make this very, very painful."

"If I had ever known her, she would be dead by tomorrow morning."

"Then how can I find her?"

"Difficultly. Easily."

She struck her across the face, but much unlike the dramatic reactions Lorhan had entertained her with earlier that evening, Nazara gave all the reaction a statue of stone might have. Undeterred, Aria drew close and hissed belligerently, "You have threatened my daughter's life, regardless of your original intent. I have every justification to kill you right here, and don't think I won't if you continue to fuck around my questions."

"Then why haven't you? Is it because you covet intelligence for your syndicate more than you love her?"

Aria was livid. Her patience had been depleted utterly, thrusting her into impulse; she swiftly holstered her pistol and brought her hand upward to join the first around Nazara's neck. Impossible black flooded her eyes, glossing them over with a membrane of hateful conquest rather than the tenderness of mating, and forced herself into the conscience of the creature before her. Shredding past strange layers of mechanical ons and offs, bursting past panes of thick mental glass with the ordered composition of crystal where amorphous nets of squirming, fleshy thought should have been feebly resisting her ruthless advance, and into a viscous black sea of experience she descended, tar or oil, organic or mechanical, and felt the grim ebb of it crawling along the inside of her head, pouring into her mouth, down her throat.

Flashes of suffering found her. Eyes rapidly fluttering open and shut without volition, fingers twitching uncontrollably as the mind was altered by cold chips and conduits. Simple for them, like sifting around in a soft bowl of fruit. Striding on legs that didn't match through the long corridor of a tomb, shivering and shaking like a newborn fawn of some unnamed animal, searching for a place where the lights didn't hurt as much. The cruel batarian woman who wore jewelry like the bones of the slaves she bought and butchered, planting tiny bombs in their heads and forging contracts for those who refused to sign them, welcoming in the world like one of their own, promoting health and wholesomeness for patients by siphoning away that of her donors. Vil'Yelva and Hasin'Tirul shaking her hand, then sliding shut and locking refrigerated drawers full of vacuum-sealed bags of spines and organs so Kaelit'Shao wouldn't see what he actually negotiated for them. Drialus Lorhan's deceitful eyes—one rheumy with excitement and one gleaming malicious violet—gliding over her countenance as he inspected the craftsmanship of her existence. The girl called Liselle, wiping her eyes and sniveling, mourning the world she'd been born into.

Old wistful glimpses of a flotilla sailing the black canvas of the universe, rolling and rotating and wheeling along in unity, in strength, in hope. She'd never see them again. A sapient twist of despair deep enough to distort the vista into a nightmare; now envisioning a seething planetary mass of pulsing flesh and machinery, suspended in a featureless, dismal void where it undulated infernally, whispering the languages of the stars known and forgotten, condensing and evolving into a single dialect.

_I do not assimilate,_ said one of them, both of them, or all of them.

Nazara had touched something, or contrived something, with her mind on the way here. Something incomprehensible, of unfathomable scale, computing a name for itself, for her and for all beings trapped on the edge of doom and forced to look upon it. To attempt interpreting it as Nazara had sent the nightmare reeling into vertigo. It unraveled and retreated back into a nothingness so consuming it seemed to mirror itself; mirrors and mirrors and endless mirrors made of accelerating data, recursively collapsing until the pressure wrought Aria to what felt like mere molecules.

When Aria ejected herself from the meld she found herself in a daze, staring blankly forward for several seconds until she realized that the world was the world again. Her senses gradually emerged from the delay they'd succumbed to, enabling her to breathe again and discern the ambient sounds of the building.

Then dizziness hit her, inducing the most nauseating, head-splitting migraine Aria had ever endured. Initially shocked by the tremendous wave of pain she lifted a clammy hand, pressed her palm against her forehead, and was finally able to wrench a hoarse shout of agony from her vocal cords.

Her mercenaries burst into the room and raced to her side, alerted to Aria's distress and immediately endeavoring to isolate its cause. One removed her hands from her face, held her steady, and produced a small flashlight. The mercenary shone it into Aria's eyes to assess whether her mysterious ailment was traumatic, but Aria pushed the light away as another spike of pain embedded into her skull.

"Stop! Stop it!" She commanded them, pulling her arms away from their grasp despite their subtle shaking. "I'm fine."

Across from her Nazara was as impassive as she'd been before, watching Aria's illness with a silence that could only denote intrigue. And then she said, quietly for the limited area in the room, "You will not be slain by the enemies who hunt you, but by the flesh you bore. I could never conceive a more fitting end."

Aria's reaction to her obscure prophesying was abjectly negative. With her cold, trembling fingers she suddenly drew her heavy pistol, aim quivering as she pushed it through the mercenaries fretting over her, and leveled it at Nazara's head to the best of her ability. She pulled the trigger without a semblance of hesitation, but in her weakness the bullet strayed from intended course and cut through the side of Nazara's neck, who never flinched, even as blood-coursed arteries and conduits of conductive fluid began spilling out from the gruesome hole in her throat. Aria shot her again in the cheek, and again in the jaw, before she finally found her target in the center of her forehead.

When the damage and loss of fluids began taking its toll Nazara slumped without a fuss, her eyes dimming as she thought no more.

Aria pushed herself up from her chair, refusing the aid offered by her commandos. The other quarians, escorted by the investigative team assigned to them, were waiting outside the room when they emerged, frantic and shouting in denial at the loss of their greatest investment, and consequentially everything they had diligently worked on since they first set foot upon the station. In the sight of Nazara's lifeless body they saw the future of their people shatter. But Aria denied them a chance to mourn just yet; she ordered her forces to escort them into the room where medical supplies were kept at lower temperatures, and from the knowledge she'd lifted from Nazara's mind Aria was able to locate a concealed flush panel in the wall which, when one pushed their fingers into it and gripped an interior handle, rolled out a hidden cabinet of various drawers. Opening them yielded the cargo Nazara had promised: a grisly stow of cadavers and separated body parts, meticulously labeled beneath thin layers of frost coating the sealed plastic.

"Indentured flesh is cheap," Aria remarked, particularly to Vil'Yelva's horror. "Fortunate to have a business agreement with someone with plenty of access to it, isn't it?"

"That... that isn't..."

Kaelit'Shao was approaching the drawer. When Vil'Yelva tried to stop him, Rasma held him back.

"...T-They're... they're..." came the timorous voice of the errand-runner as he scanned the labels, and confirmed his worst fears as truth. "...They were s-slaves, Vil'Yelva! _Slaves!_ How could you?!"

"Kaelit—"

He was too distraught to listen. _"Slaves—!"_ he cried. "I-It's this place! It's this horrible, _evil_ station, p-poisoning everything and everyone that comes here! _Keelah_ , we're _slavers_...! No, no, no, no...!"

Hasin'Tirul managed to push past Malak to attempt restraining Kaelit, but he only caused his growing hysteria to peak. They struggled against one another until Kaelit ripped his arms free of Hasin and groped blindly for something, anything to defend himself with from the monsters in the room with him. When he stumbled over a scalpel he brandished it without thinking, thoroughly alarming his associates. Bravely, Vil'Yelva tried to disarm him of the weapon but Kaelit retaliated, shouting in grief and resentment as he lashed out at him.

It was dubious as to whether it was Kaelit's intent, when the scalpel plunged into the neck of Vil'Yelva's enviro-suit, and even more dubious as to whether twisting the blade was meant to kill him or an accident while trying to frantically remove it. But Hasin'Tirul's intent was flagrant when he gripped hold of a liquid nitrogen dispenser and swung it at Kaelit, catching him in the back and knocking him to the floor where he kicked a gurney down between them to grant him enough time to rise. Only a single deep slash was cut into Hasin's side before he was able to smash the dispenser into the front of Kaelit's helmet twice, breaking through the protective visor on the first and bludgeoning his face in the second.

When the violence had settled, the wide-eyed, terrified, and panting Hasin'Tirul clutched at the wound in his side, pulling away from it a slick stain of blood on his fingers. In an instant he knew the urgent mortal danger he was in, felt the cruel maw of death reaching out to taunt him, and looked to his captors as a last resort.

He looked to Aria in particular, noticing then an aspect of calm, well-calculated mercy materialize on her features as she gently offered him, "Would you like medical attention, Hasin'Tirul?"


	37. Armalian Peace

The shadows cast by the preponderance of midday cloud cover made the day a gray one, softening the usual silvery-blue metallic sheen reflecting off the curved exoskeleton of the elegant and prestigious Armali event center hosting the conference; a highly symmetrical structure completely encircled by an artificial canal of shallow, crystalline waters over which bridges extended to admit its occupants. For the conference, asari attendees were spilling into the halls from all sides, many gossiping with friends and new acquaintances on the bridges themselves or lingering to make a show of their expensive gowns in the tiny garden areas between the building's edge and the enclosing waters.

Races other than asari were in healthy attendance, but oftentimes they were bondmates, escorts, friends, or close business partners. The conference was still very much an asari affair, concerning the state of the Asari Republics as their people gradually sprawled across the galaxy's wide wheel. For all their people's love for everything new, foreign, or otherwise outside the typical, nationalism was present in strength within the heart of Thessian society. Many a matriarch had long devoted their voice to the effort of further exalting and strengthening the influence of the asari people, and many had determined that a sense of central unity and joined purpose would best suit the state of things.

Councilor Tevos, along with several other luminaries, arrived at the north-eastern bridge and made the obligatory walk between the rows of camera drones and reporters, all vying to publish their formal images and reap the credits awarded to the front page portrait on digital magazines. No one dared confront her directly about the incident in the Embassies the week prior, seemingly confined to silence by a temporary embargo on interviews Tevos hadn't heard about, but didn't put it past High Command to have imposed it with the threat of ejecting violators from the premises. It hadn't even been five minutes and the politics of war had already poisoned the conference, and it was unlikely that an antidote would be found in anything or anyone—not even in Aria T'Loak, who drew stares and the media's sudden frantic rush to the black skycar she departed along with her two darkly-dressed, unarmed, but decidedly intimidating mercenary guards, finding the highly unusual guest more worthy of documentation than the ambassadors and religious leaders.

Aria seemed to burn through the morning's gloom in the striking white dress embracing her curves in severe angles that were only interrupted by occasional beige or black geometry, sleeves that squared her shoulders to brutalism, and strategic regions of negative space where skin was revealed; and her waist tapered severely by the finest professional fitting before descending into a long skirt portion that respected and profusely complimented her hips, and sharply ending at her knees. And there was a curiously delicate presence of jewelry—gold with painfully red stones, seeming to glare at all who looked upon where they rested around her neck and her wrists.

Tevos watched Aria while she navigated the reporters. Her deadly good looks were impeccably present, but Aria scarcely looked herself. At least, not who Tevos had become accustomed to. Her usual jacket was absent, as were the C-Sec disguise and her borrowed clothes. Aria had slipped into the skin of a celebrity today with minimal effort, conceitedly absorbing the light of the cameras and sending them cunning smiles as if to taunt their insatiable hunger for her. She could've been a perfect fit on the cover of a magazine about Thessia's wealthiest CEOs, and maybe she might have found herself just there had fate twisted years ago in a way that kept Aria on the homeworld instead of chasing her away to the vicious ends of the galaxy.

Tevos wondered who Aria would have been if she had stayed, wondered if she would have made herself a rich mogul or the progenitor of a new powerful family that rivaled Tevos's pedigree. A mother to a handful of well-groomed and successful daughters whose fathers were carefully hand-picked from the finest stock in Council Space, consolidating power through procreation like so many wealthy asari did, always coveting good heirs and healthy bloodlines, signs of utmost prestige. Establishing dominion through family and influence, marrying herself and her assets to every source of power she could find.

It was difficult to maintain the fantasy. So much of who Aria was had undoubtedly contributed to her initial departure. Her counterculture attitudes, her predilection for asari and female mates, her colossal ambitions... these too would have shaped whatever life on Thessia Aria might have led. Maybe she would have made her fortunes through illegal enterprise all the same, only this time by surreptitiously maneuvering what seemed to be from its exterior a perfectly legitimate establishment. Maybe she would have ignored modern breeding conventions and never sought to import any exotic mates, instead deciding to forge her legacy with her own people. Tevos briefly imagined Aria as a mother—lounging domestically at home one slow afternoon, reading a book in placid silence when a pair of little girls entered the room, laughing, chasing one another, climbing over the sofa arms, and stumbling over their mother's lap before she'd abruptly demand that they stop, her firm words sending them scurrying out, but with laughs never ceasing.

Maybe Tevos would have met Aria sooner than she had in this life. Maybe they would've encountered one another upon attending a conference like this or one of the N'Yiria-N'Vani parties where the underlying aim was to establish relationships with other notable families from all throughout Council Space. Maybe they would've disliked one another eternally, or maybe the ice between them would've thawed as it had presently and they began to see one another, drawn together by what sometimes felt like natural magnetism. Maybe they would've fallen in love all the same and not felt ashamed or deterred due to the harsh limits of circumstance, and maybe Tevos could have ended up bonding with her, having children with her, whether mothering or fathering, or both. It would've been another tantalizing scandal in her family, nowhere as memorable as the one that originally brought N'Yiria and N'Vani together, but a scandal nonetheless. But then, why would Aria have been a different tale, when Tevos had already declined the opportunity to bond with another asari in this life? Inevitably, their innumerable possible lives kept winding back, reducing them to who they were at heart: unlikely to forfeit their passions and ambitions for anyone, and therefore non-conducive to serious partnerships.

Still, Tevos willed the reverie to exist for a few seconds longer before reality scattered it like a lifting fog, and pondered how she could've handled backlash from her family regarding pureblooded daughters. It would've been leagues easier than what she might have to address now, if Estulius exposed her tomorrow. The thought turned what remained of her fading daydream sour and remorseful, and it was only fortunate when Matriarch Medora, who had just joined her side minutes prior, rescued her by quietly advising the councilor, "Miss T'Loak certainly knows how to make an entrance. Perhaps you should invite her to appear in a picture alongside you. Demonstrating the concord between us would do a service for those who are still concerned about her intentions for being here. I would ask her myself, but, I have a sense that she won't be trusting me until very late into the afternoon."

Tevos filed away her request as the small garden was gradually filled by attendees, many greeting her only to detract from small talk to pay a certain high profile guest attention, as she leisurely strolled down the avenues of news media, clearly extending the life of the spectacle she created to the point where Tevos had begun apprehensively tapping one foot while she awaited her arrival. Even Falteus and Irissa had walked the length of the bridge and assimilated into the small group conversing with the councilor, having to completely bypass where Aria stood speaking at length with a particularly attractive asari reporter. Tevos hadn't realized Aria could be such a socialite, and aptly wondered what her motivations were, for Aria always kept them _somewhere_ beneath her actions. As more time passed Tevos's patience waned.

At last Aria joined them, but not without a handful of reporters following her, trying to frame her along with the matriarchs and politicians. Stealing her away from a blatantly good time, Tevos greeted her flatly and used their proximity to unhappily state, "He knows."

Aria's expression fell from smugness into discontent, only leaving her to tardily reply, "I know."

_"You_ know?" Tevos asked her, admittedly surprised that Aria was aware of her predicament. But then she remembered who she had sought custody of, and who now was likely in her possession, given no choice but to answer every question Aria might have posed.

She grimly nodded. "We'll talk about it later," Aria said, cutting their private discussion short as to not arouse too much suspicion.

When they turned back to face the light of camera drones glazing over their bodies, both appeared relatively amicable, and certainly not unpleased any amount. While Tevos heard one reporter narrating, "—Aria T'Loak, who defended Asari Councilor Tevos against a violent batarian extremist just last week—" another called out to them, asking that she and Aria shake hands for a potential cover shot for their next publication. At the sound of the request, many others in the vicinity immediately concurred. Seeing Medora discreetly nod in tandem, Tevos extended her hand to Aria, who still seemed adverse to the shallow atmosphere of friendliness. Tevos responded to her disinclination by whispering to her, "Take my hand."

"Publicity stunt, hmm? I don't like the idea."

"I didn't ask if you did. _Take my hand."_

Aria reluctantly conceded to her cold demand and grasped the councilor's hand, conveying a clear sign of harmony between two galactic regions usually found at bitter odds. It delighted the media immensely.

Not once had their pleasant smiles failed, even as they had briefly bickered. For several long seconds their pose was extensively documented, a moment in which Tevos touched Aria and did not fear intense scrutiny befalling her personal life, but instead felt a sense of proud relief swelling in her chest, mimicking acceptance. It was fortunate that she did not hear Irissa and Falteus conversing with one another about the spectacle behind them, speaking quietly as to not intervene or project their perceptions into the notice of others.

"I have never quite understood the mechanisms of asari politics," Falteus said to the ambassador as they beheld the two asari in perplexity. "And I'm not sure if I ever will."

"Believe me," Irissa replied while slowly shaking her head and fixing a suspicious leer onto Aria's white-clad back, "I feel the same on too many occasions."

"But," Falteus continued, "given how successful your people are, and prove to be time and time again... I suppose I can't fault the asari for traditions that seem most effective."

"...No. I suppose you couldn't."

Tevos and Aria joined them, eliciting intrigue and bewilderment from Falteus when his hand was gripped in an alarmingly firm handshake upon meeting the legendary icon from Omega. Irissa, on the other hand, refused her greeting and merely stated that Thessia had made sacrifices to ensure that Aria would enjoy her day here on the homeworld, and she would be wise to stay respectful. Tevos was grateful that Aria didn't overtly challenge her rudeness, seeming to recall just who and what the ambassador suspected her of being, and endeavoring to prove her assumption wrong through a display of calm and confident propriety. Aria was and was not a great many things, but she would never have anyone else thinking her the person Irissa saw.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

The many circles of socialization broke up punctually, all in time to fill the tall, wide chamber where polished white marble swirled beneath their feet, every chair was lined in plush royal blue fabric, and many elevated rows of seating rose up along the curved walls as they bent into the heavenly dome overhead. An impressively clear pool of water lied in the center of the floor, tiled beneath where the emblem of the Asari Republic resided—a familiar sight to those who frequented Thessian halls of political deliberation. And around the pool wrapped a centerless ovular roundtable, sturdy in its aged construction and able to seat nearly forty speakers in equal orbit as they comprised the heart of the forum.

Aria was admittedly surprised when she learned one of the table seats had been reserved for her, having found it extraordinarily unlikely that the matriarchs would allow her a platform from which to easily speak her mind and attempt to undermine the virtues and principles being discussed. She had anticipated strict censorship up until the moment when she, Tevos, and High Command eventually convened in secrecy, but sure enough, as promised by one of the coordinators directing people into seating areas, Aria found a black removable plaque fixed into a slot at her designated roundtable seat, bearing in fine bronze lettering: _Omega Representative Aria T'Loak._

As more speakers filed in Aria was quick to realize that she'd been kept away from the voices of local asari territories and colonies and instead found herself in the company of representatives from satellite, or unofficially related worlds at the edges of asari space, Illium among them. Naturally, that placed Matriarch Medora, along with Councilor Tevos, at quite a distance, leaving Aria stranded and utterly bored without anyone she'd like to furtively converse with. It was bad enough for the symmetry of the table to insinuate uniform standing amongst all who sat at it, but to be burdened with the expectation of contributing to discourse which elevated regions of space that had long spurned and criticized Aria's world did not even vaguely interest her.

So Aria remained uncharacteristically taciturn for the better part of three hours, her only relief found in a scheduled twenty-minute recess in the middle, but still she could not secure an opportunity to entertain herself by talking to Tevos, who was much too involved with the matriarchs crowding her. Stealing her away from them would draw far too much attention, so Aria kept her distance, brooding in contempt until the time had come to resume the forum. Settling back into her idle musings, Aria allowed the majority of the forum to pass her by without giving meaningful interjection, only turning her attention onto what was being said when it involved economics, and whenever Tevos spoke.

She thought her fixation curious. Perhaps it was borne from the urgent desire to speak of what she had learned from Lorhan, and the trouble Tevos was presently in as a result of his collusion with Estulius, with her and Matriarch Medora. It was also entirely possible that Aria was overeager for the day to end so that she could rendezvous with Tevos in private. The councilor's wardrobe choice—a long dark dress that sleekly outlined her silhouette, conservatively hiding almost every stretch of flesh beneath its collar but paradoxically promising Aria its reveal at a later time—had drawn Aria's gaze whenever she came within sight, and she had found it increasingly hard to turn away or deny her attention when she spoke into the microphone embedded into the desk, projecting lightly-accented legal and political parlance with a deep, fluent understanding that demanded _and_ received the respect of everyone present in the chamber.

Aria hadn't quite appreciated the amount of authority Tevos held before. Instinctual resentment of government had once dismissed Tevos's office as little more than a ceremonial or purely titular position, and mending her opinion to accomodate reality had proven an arduous affair, requiring Aria to shed years of prejudice to uncover her tentatively-phrased admiration.

Aria wasn't even sure if she understood her own perception of Tevos. She was... confused by just how their unique relationship had come to be; liking Tevos intensely despite her embodying everything Aria had disdained for centuries. Her conclusion had historically been that Tevos merely did it _well_ , did it _right,_ as opposed to the conduct of all other politicians, but Aria presently suspected that not even this was true. As the conference today had shown, Tevos was not so different from her peers. She was undeniably one of them no matter the angle Aria chose to observe her from, and though she struggled to distort Tevos's affiliations, the councilor would always resist Aria's will and faithfully snap back to who she truly was. A wealthy and distinguished servant of her people, well-educated and accustomed to compromise and peaceful coexistence, and nothing at all like Aria T'Loak. Yet Aria liked her still, and always anticipated her company.

The most recent complication in their relationship upset Aria for reasons she immediately understood but did not want to validate. It simply wasn't practical, to be so personally invested in Tevos's problems with Councilor Estulius. Aria had achieved what she had industriously pursued over these many weeks: to unveil her enemy, to understand what mechanisms made horrors out of her deceased allies, and where to find the last turian veteran responsible for her troubles. Only a single agent from Asari High Command remained ensconced, but she was something Aria could handle once the forces meant to support her in the event of a full-fledged coup were purged from her station. By turning the climate universally hostile to aspiring usurpers Aria doubted the agent would be so bold as to carry out her original orders while knowing her mission had already failed definitively. Aria would certainly not allow herself to grow complacent until she was named and captured, but the overall urgency of the conflict was quickly receding.

Aria had obtained the aid she desired from Tevos. After she issued today's planned request it was unlikely that Aria would feel the need to contact Tevos for another favor again, at least for a very long time. There were dismally few rational reasons to linger long enough to witness the imminent destruction of the asari councilor's image and career, and Aria needed not fret over what did not affect herself. A lifetime of brutal experience strongly recommended that she abandon ship and disappear into her beloved realm where she had the luxury to simply forget about the life that had been ruined during her struggle to maintain power, and enjoy her ability to move onto whatever depraved diversion her constantly-evolving heart desired next.

That would have been the smart decision, the _right_ decision. But Aria found herself hesitating to make it. And _hesitating_ was perhaps an understatement, if Aria was being honest with herself. She found herself compelled to remain, to retaliate violently against the blackmail clutched by Estulius as if it were blackmail wielded against herself. For a time Aria had attributed her feelings to a natural desire to preserve one's useful allies, but there was clearly more to it, much more to it. More to it than what Aria had been prepared for.

While dourly ruminating, Aria had failed to pay much attention to the conference transpiring around her, and was abruptly forced from her thoughts when a matron representing a mining colony in the Attican Traverse addressed an invidious question to her, "Long have my workers suffered at the hands of Terminus-based pirates, who care nothing for life nor livelihood of others. Can nothing truly be done for these people? If not military presence, who then can defend them? Does Aria T'Loak of Omega, with her vast influence over the region's business ecosystem and underworld alike, not endeavor to do anything for them?"

Countless eyes had turned upon her, awaiting her answer. With minimal perturbation Aria leaned in toward her individual microphone and replied to her, "As a matter of fact, I do offer a certain protection service that can be purchased by the affected worlds. Check the records. Every Traverse outfit who made a financial arrangement with me can attest to dramatically reduced piracy, and even near elimination of it in many cases."

"So I'm to understand that the safety of these colonies hinges on the contents of their credit accounts?"

"My organization will not be held accountable for the actions of all the pirates in the Terminus Systems," Aria said to her, her tone tightening with a subtle threat. "Do you know what's involved when negotiating with pirate groups? Do you know the resources that need to be expended to bring some of the more determined ones to heel? You don't know a thing about who I am or what I do, do you?"

Indignity rose on the matron's cheeks in a violet blush of color. "I know enough to realize that you're only different from common pirates in technicalities but not in substance. Monetizing the misfortune of others. Consorting with killers and drug runners. Where is your sense of civic responsibility, Aria T'Loak? Where is your desire to better galactic society? I know the answer to both of those questions. You'd let entire societies burn if the glow were pretty enough to look at while you counted your credits."

Though the chamber had erupted with incessant whispers, Aria answered aggressively, "My organization is not a _charity_. And neither is yours. Next time you want to make a quick profit off a mineral-rich rock somewhere out in the Traverse, make some room in your tight-ass budget for proper security. People like you don't deserve to run worlds of your own. People like you are just entitled, shortsighted, _pathetic shits_ who expect others, or even their government, to risk a _war_ just to mitigate their fuck-ups. And you want to talk to _me_ about responsibility? Don't make me laugh."

As the volley continued, Aria caught a glimpse of Tevos. She was pinching the bridge of her nose in mortification, seemingly to pray for a miraculous end to the verbal bludgeoning, into which others were pouring to either take sides or attempt appeasing both. Aria just might have spared Tevos the courtesy if she hadn't been insulted, but presently there was no other proper response except fighting until she emerged victorious and the opposing matron was publicly humiliated, even if it caused a scene, a _tremendous_ scene, at everyone's expense.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

The commandos keeping vigilant watch over the safety of the attendees had been instructed to keep Aria and the matron she had feuded with as far away from each other as possible during the lunch party. They were advised to stay on opposite ends of the wide hall where catering and seating awaited them, making it quite clear that further disruptions would not be tolerated and any future incidents would warrant their expulsion from the event. Aria had little choice but to comply due to her need to remain long enough to attend the _true_ conference of the day.

Through the sea of guests meandering about in groups of varying size and composition, Tevos finally spotted Aria where she stood at the long rows of food being presented, captiously reading labels set before the dishes while searching for a meal palatable enough to satisfy the taste she had developed from batarian-influenced cuisine. When she strode up to her side, Aria regarded her in perplexity.

"I thought we were avoiding each other," Aria said, turning back to the food.

Tevos briefly raised her brow to convey wryness before replying, "That was the plan, until you decided to start a fight at a _peace_ conference. The matriarchs have asked me to keep a close eye on you."

Aria scoffed. "What do they think you are? My probation officer?"

"Nothing quite so degrading, but they believe that if anyone can dissuade you from causing further trouble, it would be me. Presumably due to my prior experience. It's strangely flattering, really, being perceived as the only one in the building tactful enough to influence your actions. Or lack of them, as they'd prefer."

"Well," Aria said with disdain. She gestured to a beautiful platter of fresh seafood to request a serving from the well-dressed employee standing by. "It isn't as though I were the one who broke the peace. I controlled myself. It was that moron who resorted to physical violence once she realized I'd won."

A short, exasperated sigh departed Tevos. "Aria, you can't call someone a _manal_ in front of hundreds of people and not expect her to throw her shoes at you. Intentional provocation can be violence just the same."

Aria paused for a moment as a small peculiar smile came to rest on her lips. "They won't be inviting me back, will they?"

Tevos could not help but smile in concert. "No. I don't think they will."

A third but familiar voice inserted itself into their conversation, happily capturing their attention. "Tevos! I've finally found you!"

The councilor turned to see none other than Nerava N'Yiria approaching them, her arm linked with Vyrina's; both dressed fabulously and apparently having a very decent time by their good moods.

"Nerava?" Tevos greeted her and Vyrina in confusion. "I didn't realize that you attended these conferences. It's very good to see you, make no mistake, I'm merely pleasantly surprised."

"Oh we've attended for _ages_ , Tevos," she explained. "In fact, we've been sending a family representative every year since before you even became councilor. We were always around to listen to you and the matriarchs, except... we never felt it appropriate to approach you afterward. We didn't want to offend or embarrass you, during those times. Plus, half the time we were too busy socializing with other magnates, and— _Oh my_. Is this who I think it is?" Excitement spread unchecked across Nerava's face when she regarded Aria, who had been quietly assessing their presence and relation to Tevos. "The famous Aria T'Loak, guest of the hour? _Oh my,_ I'm so pleased to finally make your acquaintance!" Without reservation she amiably extended her hand to greet her, and Aria accepted the gesture.

"An interesting opinion," Aria remarked. "Most here only accost me to blame me for their problems."

"And I'm here to do the exact opposite," said Nerava. "On the contrary, you've single-handedly alleviated the largest problem this conference suffers each year: its terrible monotony! Honestly, when we receive our annual invitation my relatives and I have to either raffle or rotate the responsibility because no one ever wants to go! No offense intended, Tevos, but truly; it's the same thing every time, over and over, rehashed infinitely. Goddess, we _needed_ Aria T'Loak this year. I was about to fall asleep when she injected some much-needed life into the forum and saved us all."

"It was... interesting, to say the least," Vyrina tentatively concurred. "And certainly more exciting than what we expected for today."

Nerava addressed her cousin. "By the way, Tevos, might you know where Falteus is? I saw him earlier and thought I'd say a quick hello."

"Not at the moment, no. Although I believe Ambassador Irissa was with him, last I saw."

_"Tevos,"_ Nerava seemed to chide her good-naturedly. "With that sort of passive attitude toward your dates, you're never going to settle down."

Tevos appeared momentarily disoriented by the comment, as if forgetting her supposed relation to the turian man. Only Aria had noticed, however; sending her a sly look before returning to the matter of lunch. They all lingered at the catering tables for several minutes before deciding the composition of their plates. After letting the server know that they intended to sit together, their plates were placed on a cart and the server followed them with it to their chosen table. On the way to their seating, Tevos was mildly horrified to see Nerava's interest in Aria culminate when she linked arms with her and began liberally asking her an assortment of questions, which Aria answered so long as they did not concern personal or confidential details. Tevos walked alongside Vyrina instead, silently upset by how Nerava—notorious for her undaunted nature even when encountering the most controversial acquaintances—could maintain such proximity with Aria and not arouse the slightest bit of suspicion, for all who saw them would dismiss the sight as completely regular. Meanwhile Tevos remained distraught by the threat Estulius left ominously hanging above her head, unable to fight against him, unable to do _anything_ but hope the matriarchs of High Command would save her yet again.

By the time they had seated themselves with the bonded couple between them as they rounded the small table, Aria had begun boasting to Nerava about her days as the captain of a pirate fleet; offending Tevos in the process, for when she had once attempted extracting a confession from Aria after presenting some very conclusive files as evidence, Aria had played amnesiac.

Seventeen ships, said Aria. All under her command as they sailed the stars and vast orbs of untouched planets without allegiance to anyone but themselves, taking whatever they wanted as they went along, and only peacefully reconnecting with civilization when the need arose to resupply. Then Aria said she became a bounty hunter. These were years of relative solitude spent waiting, watching, and learning. Patience and skill had made her rich and notorious until she 'became bored of it' and decided to start over on a whim. When asked, Aria told Nerava that it was fairly likely that she'd stay with Omega for the rest of her days. Aria had commitment issues, but Omega was simply too beautiful and full of personality for Aria to ever be unfaithful again, she said.

Tevos was on the verge of rolling her eyes when a server came by to present a selection of wines and liquors to accompany their meals. Aria took it upon herself to choose a sparkling wine, but when offering to pour Nerava a glass after filling her own, she politely declined.

"Nerava, refusing a drink?" Tevos inquired with a smile. "I'm honestly alarmed."

"Well," Nerava answered, suddenly more excited than she had been previously, "I have news." She looked to Vyrina at her side, who had been discontentedly eating small bits of her lunch while listening to Aria greedily steal away and hoard her bondmate's attention with her stories, and took her hand in her own. When she turned back to face Tevos, Nerava proudly announced, "I'm pregnant again."

"Oh Nerava, I'm _very_ happy for you. Both of you," Tevos said to the pair. "Have you started considering names, or is it too early for that?"

"We've tossed around some ideas," said Vyrina. She appeared less dissatisfied now that Aria had lost the spotlight. "There's always some compromise involved. When I married Nerava I knew very well that my daughters were going to be asari. So, with Elisia I left most of the naming decision up to Nerava—I wanted to make sure Elisia would fit in well with her classmates and everything. You know how cruel schoolchildren can be to each other."

"But this time," Nerava continued for her, "I think I'm going to let Vyrina make the list. I'll just eliminate anything with unfortunate translations."

"How many daughters do you have?" Aria asked.

"Three, as of now," answered Nerava, delighted by Aria's interest in hearing about them. "Selesa was my first. She doesn't come around very often. She's on Thessia, but, very south of where I come from. Yanisa is my second. She's almost three hundred now. And there's little Elisia. She's so sweet; I always miss her when I take trips. I try to bring her along but we often go where children shouldn't, with this conference as an example."

"And does the councilor have any children?" Aria further asked. She turned her gaze onto Tevos, who frowned at her, silently condemning her instigation. "I'm regularly forced into calls regarding our armistice and I've personally met with her a handful of times, yet I know next to nothing about her."

"I find that hard to believe," Tevos heard Vyrina mutter, but Nerava overpowered her words by saying simultaneously, "Tevos is a private sort. I would've been surprised if she shared anything with you."

"I don't have any children, no," said Tevos, briefly directing a hard glance at Aria. "It isn't that I dislike children; it's nothing like that. Life simply hasn't presented me with a suitable opportunity."

"People rarely have children while in their preferred window of opportunity," said Nerava. "You want them, and it happens. Or maybe you didn't know you wanted them, or didn't expect them, and it happens. People rarely find that paradise moment when everything comes together seamlessly, and many spend their whole lives waiting for it, letting the best years of their lives slip by. I don't mean to insult you, Tevos. It's just rather important to me, seeing you happy with your life."

"Well, I... appreciate your concern. I do. I think that no matter the outcome I shall be adequately pleased. I've done much with my life already. More than many do, and I've obtained a great deal of personal satisfaction from my office." A sudden turn of melancholy afflicted Tevos's next words. "If... my career should suddenly end tomorrow, please know that I am content. Very content indeed."

"Heartwarming," said Aria. Her voice sounded taut with distaste.

Tevos disregarded her. "So, Nerava. Returning to our prior topic of discussion, if I am to have children, you will be among the first to receive the news. And my diplomatic correspondent joining us today will be among the last."

Nerava warmly laughed. "Tevos, I once feared that Aria T'Loak was conversationally belligerent toward you, but now I've the troubling sense that it's the other way around. Does she abuse you, Aria?"

"Not as much as I'd like," she quipped.

Aria's cool reply did not go without penalty. Tevos issued her a look so flagrantly barren of emotion and humor that it might've terrified any lesser creatures unfortunate enough to stand in Aria's position. The self-proclaimed Queen, however, remained undaunted.

"And what exactly do you mean by _that?"_ Nerava gently laughed again.

Without further comment Aria pushed her chair back and rose, claiming that she had a call to make and would return shortly. Just when she'd left earshot, Vyrina flatly declared to their table, "I don't like her."

"What?" Nerava seemed surprised. "Why not? I thought she was hilarious."

"I don't like the way she talks to you."

"The way she talks to me? And just how does she talk to me?"

"I don't like the way she talks to the councilor either."

"How, Vyrina?"

"Like she wants something from you and she's entitled to getting it."

Tevos found herself in the position to add, "It's a bit of a shock at first, I realize, but you become inured to it after the first few conversations."

"I haven't the faintest idea of what you two are on about," said Nerava. "She's just one of those charismatic types. Well, _I_ for one enjoyed her company. I think I'm going to request her contact information."

Tevos soon after excused herself as well, leaving the couple behind to debate whether Aria T'Loak was decent enough to maintain any sort of contact with. She strode out onto the floor where many people still congregated with two goals in mind: to seek out and locate Falteus to bring him back to the table where his presence might displease Aria, and to casually survey the environment for any signs indicating that Medora was ready to speak with them. As expected, Tevos was intercepted by a host of people bearing concerns for her to consider. Ambassadors, wealthy CEOs, and even her own personal security who discreetly asked the councilor if Aria was causing her any trouble, to which Tevos responded negatively. It was technically a lie, but Tevos couldn't have her security hounding Aria all day when they were expected to soon abscond into a conference which would influence the fate of lifelong careers and entire societies.

Just when Tevos thought herself finally free to resume her own business, Irissa found her. She was bearing a grave expression as a prelude to the serious matter she aimed to discuss. Tevos initially believed her news was political, perhaps involving something dreadful underway back home which needed to be addressed immediately, but she was surprised to learn that it wasn't political at all. It was personal.

"Tevos," Irissa said to her after pulling her to the side where their discussion could achieve an acceptable degree of privacy. "Are you well today?"

"Am I well today?" she repeated the question, admittedly confused by it. "Is that why you waved me down, to ask this?"

Irissa gave an exasperated roll of her eyes before shaking her head. "I'm asking because I overheard what the matriarchs have requested of you—that you monitor Aria T'Loak and dissuade her from inciting anything else. Now, I realize that you're finely skilled at the art of tolerance, but even I noticed a dismal change in you, since you sat down with her and your cousin."

"Oh Irissa, you act as though it's unusual for someone like Aria to perturb me, or anyone else for that matter. If you were spying as closely as you claim you might've noticed the same reaction in Vyrina, Nerava's bondmate. Simply by stepping into the same room she perturbs _you_ , for example."

"Very true, but this is different. I see the way she looks at you. She haunts you, doesn't she?"

Tevos nearly stumbled when giving her reply. "Haunts me? Irissa, I really haven't much time for this pointless interrogation. Have you seen Falteus lately? Last I saw, he was with you."

_"Tevos,"_ Irissa persisted, leaning in close to express her severity. "I need to talk to you about this. As your colleague, as your friend. I can see how T'Loak haunts you, haunts your steps. How she watches you, always with this bearing that suggests ownership of you, or something similarly foul. Last time when we spoke of this, I was cowardly. I evaded the issue, dodged the grisly details of it, but I can't afford to do that anymore. I need to be confrontational."

A sense of clammy fear was creeping along Tevos's flesh. She secretly flailed for words clever enough to escape Irissa's scrutiny, but before she could even devise the most rudimentary of excuses, Irissa spoke again.

"I asked Falteus if he'd ever been with you. He said he never had."

"That is _too_ private," Tevos said with an abrupt surge of indignity. "How dare you inquire about my personal life to other people, behind my back—"

"I did it because I'm _concerned_ about you," argued Irissa. Her emphatic tone suggested that Tevos did not quite understand her meaning and intent. "I did it because I wanted to confirm my suspicions about T'Loak, and what she... what she makes you do. Tevos, I can't stand it. I won't sit idly by and let something like this happen to my friend. I know you tolerate her because you love our people and want to see them safe, and T'Loak can help provide that. You put the galaxy before yourself, nobly, but that doesn't change the fact that this is wrong. You have to take a stand against her. You have to put a stop to it. But if you can't... I want to let you know that _I will_. It just sickens me, looking at her, knowing how she preys upon you. Like some animal, or some monster."

"You... are being so very insultingly presumptuous," Tevos said. She knew not whether she was actually offended or acting on impulse, struggling to preserve secrecy, even if it meant alienating Irissa. Once she had started, however, Tevos found it impossible to stop. "How are you to know the reality of my life? Who are you to extend yourself beyond fact and construe everything in a way that fits your own biased model of understanding? Who are you to pass judgement on a person you don't even know, don't even care to know, don't even respect? These are very serious allegations, Irissa. They are not under any circumstance to be taken lightly, and certainly not to be taken at all in the absence of overwhelming evidence, of which I know you possess none not because you were unable to obtain any, but because none is in existence. Allow me to say now, solemnly, with all my character and integrity invested in this statement, that she has never forced me into an arrangment such as the one you have in mind, and she never will. I do not want to speak of this ever again, Irissa. And don't _ever again_ let me hear you accuse my diplomatic correspondents of crimes you only surmise."

Tevos departed to let her cold fury permeate Irissa and did not look back to see what she had wrought. As the passing seconds drained her of anger and allowed her reason to return, Tevos was struck by a poignant sense of regret. In her panic brought by the terror of discovery she had undoubtedly wounded Irissa, and for what? For being her friend, one of the only close friends Tevos possessed, for rising to her defense and striving to remove her from a situation, regardless of its factuality, that was potentially causing her unknown amounts of suffering? Her intent, although mistaken, had been genuine, brave, and loving. And Tevos had reviled her for it.

None of it had been Irissa's fault. It wasn't even Aria's fault. Although responsibility for being careless was shared between them, Aria was not responsible for the manner in which Tevos managed their relationship as it occasionally threatened to leak into the conscience of outside parties. In place of her outburst Tevos might have calmly reassured Irissa that her concern was sweet but misplaced, and merely lied about having some mysterious partner for just a few days to explain the mark of indiscretion Irissa once saw on her neck. And Tevos called herself a politician, a master negotiator, an expert in both spoken and written language. Her handling of the situation was deplorable at best; unbecoming and frankly embarrassing for someone of her reputation. It was only a testament to how ferociously she clutched her private life as of late, and how much of an impression Aria had left on her, providing the company of someone she adored being with for endless hours, reminding her how it felt to actively crave sex once she'd rejuvenated her taste for it, reminding her that there still indeed existed a _Tevos_ divorced from the title of _Councilor_.

And it was almost gone. All of it. Both _Tevos_ and _Councilor_ hung from the thinnest thread imaginable, about to be severed by Kylris Estulius in a matter of hours if Tevos did not concede to the terms of his vile ultimatum. If anything or anyone had been haunting her as Irissa insinuated, it was him.

At last Tevos had assembled the courage to look back at where she had left Irissa, meaning to return and apologize profusely, but was dismayed to see that she was gone, swallowed up by the twisting ponds of other asari and their foreign guests. In her prior spot, only displaced by a meter or two, was a hanar speaking to a bright-eyed matron; relatively young and currently bonded as Tevos judged by the delicate silver glint on her wrist. Her pretty smile told of her having a fantastic time during the social aspect of the gathering, expressing her vitality and enthusiasm to everyone around her without a care in the world and a wide open future ahead of her, full of countless friends, mates, and children she hadn't met yet but remained perpetually excited for.

And then Tevos noticed her escort. A turian woman standing tall but unobtrusively as she kept vigilant watch over her client, peering at the crowds with amber eyes surrounded by a facial carapace made distinct by orange designs delineating her colony of origin. Finding herself inspired by resolve, Tevos found herself heading toward them on purposeful strides, drawing glances from those who recognized her in a contagious succession that soon alerted the young matron to her approach, who was immensely surprised and flattered to see that the asari councilor had singled her out. She was but a rich matriarch's daughter, Tevos learned. Not so much unlike herself, destined to inherit fortunes and cleverly expand them until her family name was heard on the lips of fellow magnates throughout all of asari space.

The opportunity brought Tevos to the turian escort, who did not seem at all surprised to see the councilor approach. She said nothing, merely awaiting Tevos to speak as anticipated.

"Might you have anything for a headache?" Tevos quietly asked and was not answered with words, but rather a hand extended in simulated greeting. When she accepted the gesture she felt something small and cold press into her palm, around which she closed her fingers into a fist once their hands disengaged. Her contact was acquired, and Tevos did not examine the item until she was again seated at the table with Nerava, Vyrina, and Aria.

While they chatted, Tevos had peered down into her lap, revealing in the palm of her hand a tiny, unassuming vial filled with a translucent liquid substance. It was the _medicine_ Estulius had prescribed, containing locked up in its malignant chemical bonds the rest of Aria's life as determined by whoever possessed it and could venture close enough to Aria to use it. Without drawing the slightest bit of attention to herself, Tevos slipped the vial into a small pocket at the waist of her dress.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

Tevos had expected Medora's signal to assemble to be a very circumspect one, and that she'd nevertheless recognize it the instant it arose. Therefore she, along with the rest of the table, were substantially surprised when a commando approached them and quietly whispered, "Madam Councilor. The matriarchs are ready to see you now. Please bring along Aria T'Loak and Nerava N'Yiria and follow me to where they convene."

The request for Nerava, to which she responded without question, bewildered Tevos even more than its delivery. Realizing how it would inconvenience or even compromise them if she inquired about it, Tevos silently rose alongside the two and made to follow the commando, whom Tevos recognized as being one of the small task force she had employed to temporarily replace her Spectres. After Nerava placated Vyrina's confusion with a kiss and a claim that she had business negotiating some type of asari trade agreement, the three left the poor turian alone with little context and no one to talk to.

They disappeared down one of the long curving halls linking the regions of the building together, speaking prudently and sparingly. Nerava strode alongside the commando, softly initiating mundane smalltalk about the likelihood of rainstorms later in the evening. Behind them walked Tevos and Aria abreast.

Tevos felt Aria's knuckles brush against the back of her hand. Understanding the motion implicitly, Tevos cast a furtive glance over her shoulder to ensure no one was following them before reaching out to take Aria's hand in her own. She immediately felt her conscience brushing up alongside hers, tingling along the length of her spine and coursing warmly throughout her limbs as Aria requested access to her mind. Without hesitation she granted her entry, and Aria wasted no time in saying something she'd been yearning to share all morning.

_Estulius knew, anecdotally, ever since you signed the immigration measure. Lorhan told him but didn't want to send along the recording until he was sure he wouldn't be intercepted._

Tevos allowed Aria to feel her natural urge to curse. _I suppose that would explain why he's been conflicted over whether to be cross or cordial with me for so long,_ she replied. _What else did you learn from Lorhan?_

_He told me that Estulius wanted to use the recordings as leverage, especially now that I've taken Lorhan prisoner. He thinks Estulius will refrain from distributing them if I keep Lorhan alive and promise to release him. I sent Estulius proof of Lorhan's continued existence days ago, so he'd know by now._

_I think Lorhan's_ _assumptions have been made in false hope,_ Tevos cheerlessly thought. _If Estulius were amenable to bargaining, he would've reached out to either you or me to open a negotiation, which he hasn't. He's too determined. He is prepared to trade his friend's life for a chance to ruin me before we do the same to him. I'm think I'm going to have to expose us to High Command, at least, to an extent. I can think of no other entity with the power to stop this._

_You're serious?_ Aria asked. _How much would you tell them?_

_Well... if I need to, perhaps everything. Understand this, Aria: if I am to be defamed or lose my office, I want it to be on my own terms. Additionally, my government would be far more inclined to cover up scandals than the general public. My best chance lies with them._

Aria exuded a wave of frustration. _But this isn't on your terms. You think it is, but you're still being forced into making the move. I say fuck that._

_What alternative do I have? I can't... I can't navigate life and its problems like you do. This is the closest to 'my own terms' that I can feasibly achieve._

Several mirthless seconds of mental silence extended between them, only populated by swirls of restless emotion and anxiety.

_I revised my will the other day,_ said Tevos. _After the... incident. I felt rudely awakened to my mortality, so I added and changed several things. Some of which aren't legally binding, but comprise wishes I'd like people close to me to respect nonetheless. One of them I addressed to Irissa. I said to her that if she is to outlive me, and if she is to replace me as councilor as most suspect she will, that she would do well to give you a chance. To perhaps see that a civil relationship between our regions is not so outlandish, that it can be done, but only when reasonable individuals are in power. I know you don't like the Citadel, Aria. I know you hate being there. But you don't wish harm coming to it, like you don't wish harm coming to your station. I think Irissa will be able to see this in you. Your ultimately decent intent. I just ask of you, Aria, sincerely... please don't antagonize her overmuch if she replaces me. Please tell her what I've told you now, and please, please do your best in continuing what you and I have started together._

Aria's grip on her hand tightened. _You're not getting replaced,_ she firmly stated.

_I certainly hope you're right. But it's my responsibility to be prepared._

They would have conversed longer had they not arrived at their destination. Quickly they severed their connection and retrieved their hands as the commando motioned for them to enter a room containing a long table at which private meetings were traditionally conducted, where they found themselves in the company of several matriarchs, all dressed in regal garbs whose design demanded utmost respect. The commando nodded to their congregation and took her leave, stationing herself outside the room to guard it against the uninvited.

"Good afternoon," Tevos heard Medora's voice. The standing matriarch had collectively addressed all occupants in the room, who were filing into their seats as if the meeting had been rehearsed. Tevos sat beside Aria and directly across from Nerava, who was quite oddly unruffled by the clandestine conference's dire atmosphere.

"I suppose it would be best to give some form of introduction before we thrust ourselves into the middle of everything," Medora continued from her position at one end of the table. "This meeting, as most of us are aware, has been called to address the threat Turian Councilor Kylris Estulius, in conjunction with other operatives formerly employed by the Turian Hierarchy, have posed to the security of asari space and the larger Council regions. It must be said preemptively that this entire fiasco is not the volition of a multilateral government, but the actions of a very small but very powerful fringe faction. Therefore it cannot be definitely said that the Hierarchy is necessarily at fault. This leniency has been granted to fairly reflect the standards to which we will hold ourselves whilst addressing all that has transpired. Now, there is much to be discussed, so we'll run through the list from top to bottom. Our first order of business shall be explicating to this forum the nature of the alliance recently devised by our Councilor Tevos and Omega Representative Aria T'Loak."

Eyes were upon them, but neither Tevos nor Aria spoke. They merely stared in return, refusing to incriminate themselves unless directly accused.

"Allow me," said a familiar voice. It was Matriarch Benezia, calm as the sea on a windless morning as she rose from her seat to speak. "As I was the first among those present to have received notice. To address the enemy jointly threatening both Council Space and the current leadership of Omega, Asari Councilor Tevos and Aria T'Loak began conducting private meetings to evade bureaucratic complications that formal appointments might have brought about. These meetings would have increased their maneuverability and ease of safe communications tenfold, based on the impression my acolyte Shiala reported to me. Please, Councilor Tevos, if you would confirm the accuracy of our understanding and provide corrections if we happen to be mistaken?"

"...Of course," said Tevos, after overcoming a hitch of relief. She rose as Benezia had and confirmed her account. "It is as Matriarch Benezia has stated. When faced by an enemy in possession of advanced biological weapons, who had demonstrated the ability to capture and control the actions of a deceased Council Spectre, Aria T'Loak and I thought it imperative that we accelerate and improve our deliberations by taking them off the record. We were very successful. Over just several weeks we were able to organize operations that shed light on the technologies employed by our enemy, as well as name them. We have concluded, with certainty, that those orchestrating the unlawful seizure of Omega at the risk of our society's welfare and safety are Kylris Estulius, Drialan Gallin, and Marus Visiom."

"And a yet unnamed matriarch from Asari High Command," came Aria's vengeful addendum as she stood and garnered Tevos's exasperation. "Are you aware of her? Any of you?" She looked about their congregation, searching their faces for a flicker of guilt to pounce upon. "Are you aware of what she did? What she's responsible for? Kiava Vathesa. That name ring any bells? You know—the agent who carried out treason by murdering a Spectre? Forgive me if that little detail isn't important to anyone here."

"It did not slip our notice," replied Medora. "We invited you here to address this issue just the same, Aria T'Loak. We owed you that much, for the unjust damages we have likely caused you. Please, sit. There is someone among us willing to enlighten you, if you will permit them."

Aria briefly flicked her hands upward in a last, brusque show of defiance before she complied, settling back into her seat where she crossed her arms and waited for the explanation she'd been promised. She was abruptly on her feet again, however, when she recognized the matriarch who had slowly risen at Medora's behest to reveal herself as the one responsible for Vathesa.

"You," Aria quietly uttered, her voice seething with aversion only tempered by her shock.

The matriarch nodded, allowing Aria to behold her face and adjoining identity. "To the forum, I confess my ungraceful participation. My name is Persa Arenti."

"I... I _bought_ you," Aria sneered as she pointed an accusatory index finger. "I bought you and you fed me _shit_. No one fucks me like that. No one."

Seeing her materializing rage, a few of the matriarchs had shifted in their seats, poising themselves to swiftly intervene if Aria became violent. And not even Aria was so bold as to risk an altercation with beings as old as her, many of them even centuries older, who each possessed enough biotic experience to rival that boasted by an entire commando unit. When Tevos hissed _sit down_ to her, Aria lowered herself back into her chair. Her lethal glare never wavered.

"I understand your anger," said Matriarch Persa. "You have every right to express it. You have every right to criticize me, denounce my legitimacy as part of this council. You may never forgive me for the harm I've inadvertently inflicted on you and your syndicate, and I would not expect you to. But, Aria T'Loak, I implore you to consider my help in rectifying the misfortune plaguing you. I am doing all I can to mitigate the damage I've wrought. As I said, it may not be enough. It may never be enough to earn your forgiveness, or even that of my peers. But it's my responsibility to take action nevertheless."

Aria remained silent, still glaring with her bright frightening eyes while stiffly clenching her jaw.

"Centuries ago," said Persa, "I planted two agents on Omega to keep watch over who you now call the Patriarch. In recent years their gaze shifted to you, Aria T'Loak, as the former de facto power crumbled. You were a violent upstart at the time. A syndicate who had so suddenly crawled out of the dust, an army raised from ostensibly nothing, and when you thought yourself adequately prepared you laid siege. The war was won in a matter of days, and ever since Patriarch's defeat your control over the station has remained absolute. You see, Miss T'Loak... you were a concern since the moment we caught wind of your movement and your name. You were very good at what you did. We watched you grow, expand, and secure new alliances. Never aspiring to stop you, but to merely observe so we always had an idea of your feelings toward Council Space. So long as you posed no threat, we didn't touch you or your syndicate. But then you _started_ posing a problem. Councilor Tevos was instrumental in averting that crisis some fifty years ago, as you recall. For a while our complacency returned, but then the frequency of piracy began to escalate, and there was that whole flurry of confusion involving the drug smuggling... We were convinced the scheme had been carried out by your organization. Previous to that, I was moved by the rhetoric of individuals such as Kylris Estulius, calling for galactic unity. These talks failed. But I thought myself a force of change and managed to make contact with my agents. One was already deeply involved in a resistance movement—some predecessor of what Marus Visiom is presently using as a recruitment ploy. This was Kiava Vathesa, although I don't believe that was the name I assigned her. I instructed her to pursue a better future for Omega at all costs, harkening to this aforementioned vision. I told her to do whatever she felt was necessary. I gave her free roam, and she interpreted my impassioned orders as license to consort with the likes of Drialus Lorhan. To murder Council agents. To violate the posthumous rights of other beings."

"Did you not condemn these actions when they were included in your agent's reports?" Tevos asked. "Did you not attempt to stop her?"

"Oh, I did. By the time I received Vathesa's updates, however, she was already embroiled in the terrible cabal we're facing now. At the time I didn't know it existed. But she told me everything whilst under some delusion that she'd receive my approval. This was the first time I heard about Drialus Lorhan, Marus Visiom... and Kylris Estulius. She promised me that her status as an agent from a sympathetic High Command council member had granted her access to their inner circle, where she learned much about their operations and greatly aided their execution. When I heard the extent of their plans... they well exceeded any designs I had once entertained. They wanted military occupation. They were risking war. I declared I would have no part in any of it, and ordered that she immediately drop the project and return to Thessia. Vathesa only lambasted me by saying that I'd never known desperation, and I was in no position to pass judgement on those intimately familiar with the Omegan daily struggle. And I never heard from her again. Fearing the worst, I scrambled for hard evidence attesting to Estulius's guilt. So I enlisted Nerava N'Yiria for help."

Nerava issued a pleasant smile at being mentioned.

"Please, Nerava," said Persa. "If you would, explain your involvement. I believe your cousin, as well as Aria T'Loak, are more likely to trust your word than mine."

"Absolutely," she affably agreed, then rose. "First, I must say that this has all been terribly exciting... Truly, I can't recall a more invigorating peace conference. We _have_ to do this more often. Now, Tevos, do you recall our recent investment in Armax Arsenal?"

Realization gradually bloomed within Tevos.

Nerava could not contain her broad smile. She was positively radiant with elation. "Being a major stockholder certainly has its perks... such as people not asking _too_ many questions when you request access to some of the past financial reports. They think you want to make sure the company is growing, which it was. And what healthy company would refuse to advertise its pristine earnings and expenses? I studied what was provided to me and, well, pilfered what wasn't so readily relinquished. Do you know what I found, Tevos? Holes. Gaping holes where money or product should've been, but weren't. Things were missing, unaccounted for. Then I might have _accidentally_ tripped over a manifest diverting weapons and armor to a very suspect location. Sahrabarik. And _someone_ forgot to detach a memo, this really asinine note stuck to a datapad, reserving the manifest for Kylris to overwrite. Followed up that lead a bit more and had some people uncover a huge embezzlement and illegal arms dealing scheme. He's done. You were scared for us, Tevos, thinking Estulius was trying to play us, just to ward you off. But we played him back. Twice as well."

"I promised to cover any financial losses Nerava's family might have suffered as a result," added Persa. "I put her up to the task, so it was only proper that we'd gamble the security of my own funds."

"We didn't lose a thing, luckily enough," said Nerava. "We broke just about even when we sold all the Armax stock this morning. They never knew what hit them."

"But... no matter how incriminating the evidence is," began Tevos, "you obtained these records through criminal means. You could face serious legal ramifications from Armax Arsenal's corporate litigators if they are ever alerted to your 'pilfering'. You can't present this in court. You can't present this anywhere without incurring their wrath."

"I never intended to use this in court," said Persa. "I wanted this information solely so I could be certain of Kylris Estulius's complicity before presenting my findings to the rest of High Command. To speak of recent events... when I received word that Aria T'Loak had defended our councilor against an assailant with an ominous agenda, I knew that reversing my stance on this matter had been the right decision, and from here to the very I end I will devote myself utterly to the preservation of this beneficial mutual understanding you've forged. It may be difficult to indict Estulius, especially with turian government trying to keep this mess under wraps, but they would never permit him to remain in office. His days as councilor are numbered."

"As are mine," Tevos said, eliciting troubled and confounded gazes from all in the room. Briefly she spared Aria a glance, seeking her reaction. Aria made no gesture or expression which alluded to her opinion, her tacit neutrality permitting Tevos to frame their predicament in any way she preferred, even if it included disclosure of their very personal relationship. The councilor drew in a steady breath before making her decision. "Estulius is blackmailing me. He knows about the... alliance Aria and I have arranged. He is in possession of audio recordings which contain private long-distance conversations between myself and Aria. Although I have spoken of our arrangement to this council, my honesty does not void the fact that what we have done is, essentially, illegal. If these recordings are made public I _will_ be arraigned at some point in time."

"But isn't it also illegal, to record Tevos without her consent?" Nerava wondered aloud. "Estulius faces the same wall Persa and I do. We cannot present our evidence without inviting major legal repercussions."

Medora answered, "It is illegal to record Tevos without her knowledge while she is in the Embassies, or while she is holding official conferences, in person or long-distance. However it is not expressly illegal to tap and record _Aria T'Loak's_ personal communications and happen to identify who is on the other line, which must be the case if Tevos has deemed this a pressing concern."

Tevos nodded to validate her incisive reasoning. "I haven't even touched the worst of it. Estulius has threatened to release these recordings tomorrow during a morning address, but offered me a... condition. An ultimatum which might've saved me from defamation." Tevos stood to fish a hand into her waist pocket. She produced the vial she had obtained from Estulius's contact, then placed it on the table for all to see. "This was what he bade me to do. Estulius realized his government was about to investigate him. He knew he'd be exposed. But in a last bid to cast down his enemies with him, he aspires to either destroy my career as well... or have Aria killed by the end of all this."

Medora peered severely at the strange vial set before them. "This is... a poison?"

"Yes," said Tevos. She seated herself as many matriarchs rose to examine the object of instantaneous interest. "It is a poison, which he expected me to administer during the lunch social. He would've had me lace Aria's drink and force us to watch her die."

When Tevos turned to observe Aria she found her staring at the vial intently, her expression as hard and bleak as stone. Her eyes reflected all the gruesome roads the day might have taken if Tevos had not been as stalwart in her convictions, if in that moment she had not adored Aria more than her career. She was brewing in the realization of having been completely at Tevos's mercy when it would've been so frightfully easy for her to have tipped her hand over her glass when reaching for the bottle of sparkling wine, while Aria was too busy flirting with Nerava to notice...

Aria was deliberate in not broadcasting emotion, but Tevos had spent enough time with her to plainly see the distress twisting violently in her center. Affectionately, Tevos reached beneath the table where none of the preoccupied matriarchs would see, and gently laid her hand on Aria's knee where it protruded from the end of her skirt. She squeezed her reassuringly, communicating the depth of her attachment and hoping Aria would understand that she had been perfectly safe all along while in the presence of a partner who cared for her from the depths of her heart. Gradually Tevos felt the excessive tension in her knee relax. She removed her hand and returned it to her lap.

"Citadel politics would suffer immensely if two councilors were faced with criminal charges within mere days of one another," Medora announced to the room. "The Hierarchy may take measures to censor the extent of Kylris Estulius's crimes to preserve their reputation. But I for one will not stand idly by while asari credibility deteriorates without having committed even a fraction of the crime Estulius has. We need to act very quickly. Councilor Tevos, I don't care about the contents of the recordings in his possession. We _will_ put a stop to this. We _will_ defend our councilor. Averting galactic upheaval and war does not merit termination, not by my standards. If anyone here contests my stance, speak now."

No dissidents made themselves known.

"Then we will proceed. How many copies are in existence?"

"Lorhan said they only wanted one physical holodisk copy," answered Aria. "He said that if at any time it leaked, the recordings would lose their value and Estulius would no longer be able to use them as leverage."

"A morning address, you said?" Matriarch Persa inquired. Upon seeing Tevos's nod, she revealed her idea. "Disruption is the easiest countermeasure at so short of notice. Sabotaging camera feeds may buy us time." She raised her hand to her communicator implant. "I have some Citadel agents who can arrange a lengthy diversion, if needed."

"A diversion would certainly help," said Benezia, "but it is not a permanent solution. These records must be destroyed. Perhaps a Spectre might be in such a position? Not beholden to conventional law, given generous clearance when navigating the Embassies, and potentially sympathetic to our cause if we updated them on the situation. While Councilor Estulius is delivering his address and encountering a plethora of technical issues, the Spectre may locate and destroy the holodisk, which would likely be found safe in his office terminal, from which he could remotely access and play during the address."

"It's a decent approach," Medora deemed Benezia's quick thinking. "Councilor Tevos, might you have any Spectres at your disposal who would take on such a job, if given the right reasons or motivations?"

"I have one or two," said Tevos. "I think if I were to choose, I would assign Spectre Tela Vasir to this task. If this will be our plan, contact her."

"Duly noted," said Medora. "Tevos, we will spend the remainder of the afternoon, evening, and possibly the night making arrangements and contingency plans. You and Aria T'Loak... you have already spent long nights safeguarding the future of our worlds. Let us take our turn and match your efforts while you salvage what you can out of this event and enjoy the rest of your time here. Drink, eat, socialize, and don't despair Kylris Estulius's threats any longer."

Tevos, feeling a trembling in her hand brought on by the sheer magnitude of her relief, began to rise and graciously thank the coalition of matriarchs, but Aria hadn't concluded her business quite yet.

"I need something," she said, causing them to uniformly pause. "I want to deal the final blow to Marus Visiom on Omega. Drialus Lorhan has told me that his forces there are expecting an agent from Asari High Command, appointed by you." She turned to Persa Arenti. "The agent meant to replace me and become their puppet leader. Where is the real one?"

"Well, I..." Persa began. "I... this has been very problematic for me. I have lost her."

"You _lost_ her?"

"Weeks ago. I don't even know her name. We spoke exclusively through text, when her role in Estulius's cabal was established. Every attempt I made to contact her again failed. Much like Vathesa, she's gone rogue, or maybe she's dead. I know very little at this point."

"Then I have a request," said Aria. "I have an asari operative I want to use to impersonate yours. I want to send her in to reconnoiter their base and return with enough information to promise an easy battle, with none of those surprises they've been known for. I need you to forge her access codes, or whatever it is you use to distinguish and authorize your agents."

"When does this need to be done?"

"Within a week."

"Tevos can provide this," said Medora. "Simply because we can't afford to convene again until this is over. If Tevos can spare her time, she possesses the ability to appoint new agents, and Persa can quite easily share with her the alpha-numerical identity tag of the agent she has lost."

"This is true," Tevos concurred. "Send the operative to my office on the Citadel as soon as you are able to. I'll schedule an urgent appointment for an interview before I issue the false credentials."

They left the matriarchs plotting their response to Estulius's morning address, suddenly finding themselves in a daze incited by the unusual serenity of having narrowly emerged yet again from what could've been the catastrophic end of Tevos's career and their relationship. While Nerava went on ahead to hurriedly rejoin her pouting bondmate who likely hadn't moved much from the spot they'd left her in, Tevos spontaneously asked the commando guarding the meeting room if there was anywhere nearby where Tevos could have a word with Aria in private. Privy to the sensitive nature of the conversations being held by her superiors that day, the commando politely directed them to an empty break room typically reserved for maintenance staff, assuring them that it was properly furnished and well maintained.

Without informing Aria of her intentions, Tevos led her to the room. Once they were alone with certainty, and with the door shut behind them, she gripped the collar of Aria's dress and kissed her ardently until Aria grunted, pulled herself free for lack of breath, and complained while smoothing out the wrinkles Tevos had made in her expensive outfit.


	38. A Debt Repaid

They were drinking again, out on the hotel room's balcony enclosed by white privacy blinds extending from the outer walls and shielding them from curious eyes and ears of neighbors occupying rooms surrounding theirs in a utilitarian but fashionable grid. There was a chill on the air, remedied by Tevos's good sense in bringing a blanket with her which they shared in garishly romantic gesture, although Aria wasn't even remotely bothered by it. She was pleased; very pleased indeed as they faced the ocean sprawling before them, framed by the coastline to the west yet only terminable in the east by the horizon itself, where darker clouds amassed to shed rainfall. It was a tremendous sight to behold. A vast expanse of mysterious might, brooding in the distance. It was her and Aria against the sea, protean and vast, inscrutable and mysterious in a way that was comforting through a promise of simple but unrestricted possibility.

There was a small party nearby. The origin of the laughter and music they heard, although scattered somewhat by the breeze, could estimably be traced to a location somewhere below and to the left of their room.

Not a single word was verbally exchanged during their hour on the balcony. Their reticence was not maintained out of preference, but out of necessity; simply for fear of being overheard by anyone who might recognize their voices or conversational matter. But it was little inconvenience to them. They could fumble their hands together beneath the blanket whenever one contained a thought worthy of voice, and it remained a perpetual treat to visit Aria's mind. Tevos felt as though it would be impossible for Aria's conscience to ever overstay its welcome, whereas her physical self strangely could, and _did_ , on occasion.

So quickly had they absconded from the conference and fled to Tevos's hotel room. Once the councilor had checked and settled in she had turned her efforts onto smuggling Aria past her personal security, an art they had perfected together. And following that success, the evening was theirs. Tevos had retreated into the bathroom with the intention of escaping the strict tailoring of her dress and pull on a provided bathrobe in substitute, after permitting Aria to select something for them to drink from the impressively-stocked refrigerator.

She emerged prematurely when she heard Aria cursing, and saw her stepping back to avoid an overflow of pale carbonated foam spilling from the new bottle of sparkling wine she had just opened. Before too much had dribbled out onto the short hotel room carpeting Aria had snatched up a cloth napkin and attempted to mitigate the mess she was creating, wiping the sides and bottom of the bottle before briefly dabbing at the floor. After placing the wine onto the dresser she gazed into the rectangular mirror mounted above it to scan her precious attire for any stains, but was relieved to see that her appearance remained immaculate. However, when she glimpsed Tevos's reflection alongside hers, Aria averted her eyes and expressed silent contempt at the fact that she had witnessed the accident.

Begrudgingly, Aria had filled the two glasses set next to the bottle, lamenting the inevitable flatness of the drink, and passed one to Tevos. Her eyes had briefly flitted down her form upon her approach, highly interested in her state of undress and how splendidly undone she appeared with the inner belt of material once wrapped around her stomach hanging unfastened and her bare shoulder protruding from the wide offset collar—a state utterly at war with the professional poise she labored to maintain.

At the time Tevos had still been recovering from the awe of watching everything with Asari High Command that day transpire immensely in their favor. It was nearly miraculous, the way in which it seemed as though every star in the galaxy had aligned to save her and Aria; Medora's flexibility and loyalty to the concept of the greater good, the palatable contents of Shiala's report to Benezia, Persa's willingness to rectify her mistakes to the best of her ability, Nerava having been working in concert with her... It was almost enough to make her quiver with paranoia all over again. Tevos, along with Aria, had become so accustomed to the treachery of others that they'd forgotten what it felt like to be in the company of loyal allies committed to a shared ideal. The trauma of deception had calloused them, made them cynical, made Tevos feel deeply guilty for earlier allowing herself to collapse on her soft hotel bed with tears of relief welling in the corners of her eyes. It was a beautiful prospect, to think that she would have to sacrifice neither her career nor Aria to stay afloat in the turbulent sea that had become their lives.

She had said nothing about it to Aria, finding no benefit in needlessly distressing her, but before her discreet arrival Tevos had received an update from Medora. The matriarch had submitted the vial of poison to a government toxicologist for analysis, whose report had not only confirmed its deadly properties, but also additional facts that Estulius had brazenly lied about to Tevos's face. The report stated that ingestion would have brought about death quickly, but also very, very painfully. An image of Aria gasping, writhing, and perishing on the floor in agony had seared itself into Tevos's conscience upon reading the awful description, and she had banished the terrible thought from her mind as quickly as she was able to.

Tevos sipped from her glass when Aria had. "It's... good," she hesitantly said.

"It's flat," Aria encouraged her to also judge it truthfully. She set down her glass and pushed it away from herself, averse to anything falling below her dizzyingly high standards.

"Have a new one, then," advised Tevos, indicating the fridge with a nod in its direction.

"Well, well. Looks like the councilor's hotel bill will reflect quite the party."

"I'm not worried about it. I'm sure they're accustomed to clientele who open multiple bottles just to sample them. They wouldn't think twice when assuming I'm no different."

Aria took advantage of Tevos's agreeable mood and made her way over to the fridge where she carefully perused the selection of pricey labels. Meanwhile, Tevos continued to drink sparingly from her glass, feeling that the sparkling wine wasn't anywhere near unpleasant enough to discard. Aria found a red wine that could not suffer the same tragic loss of carbonation. While Aria busied herself with her second attempt at obtaining a decent drink, Tevos had finished shedding her dress and donned the bathrobe before rejoining her.

Out on the balcony where they were situated at present, Aria had been flicking through settings on a small media player with discreet speaker fixtures resting on the table also containing their drinks. A holographic prompt was projected from the box, directing the user to select a category from a vast database of media. Aria ignored the colorful advertisement banners skating across the screen and searched the listings by decade—entering a year several centuries back—and navigated additional filters that narrowed her search to a specific genre she once listened to as a maiden. For a minor fee she purchased an hour's worth of play and selected the first music file out of a list of countless others. Nostalgia flooded them at the sound of sweet synthesized melodies from a lifetime ago, preserved in a format so crisp and textured they sounded as if first recorded just the previous day. The old pop intrepidly filled the air, dated terribly by its style but refreshing nonetheless, as if having crystallized in time a pristine memory of beachside cities and their modish music culture, which was carried along by the silky, alluring vocals of the asari singer.

Satisfied with the playlist, Aria retrieved her glass from the table and relaxed in the cool light, but Tevos monitored her closely, very much amused, before reaching out to grasp Aria's free hand. She pressed upon Aria the presence of a second nervous system, climbing up the length of her arm, seeking her spine as the most direct channel into her thoughts. Aria welcomed her in, allowing their minds to mix and blend like two rivers colliding at a single estuary, where they yet again discovered the truest form of companionship.

Aria felt relaxed and stressless, perturbed by nothing in the universe. Her infectious mood soothed Tevos—nearly made her drowsy as she sampled the contentment alongside the dose of alcohol in their shared veins.

She could also sense a veneer of lust on Aria's mind. She had been thinking of sex, thrilled by both Tevos's earlier teasing and her own imagination. A sympathetic warmth delicately throbbed between Tevos's thighs when some of Aria's thoughts spilled into her notice, but she kept composed while communicating with her.

_Your music taste_ , said Tevos with humor, _is extremely eccentric._

_I don't confine myself_ , came Aria's simple explanation. After turning down the volume a tad she drew closer to Tevos, still eager to touch and be touched if the hand she briefly placed on her leg was a reliable indication.

_I remember when this first came out_ , reminisced Tevos. _I was in the middle of an exam week, but a handful of friends convinced me to abandon our study group session to attend a house party. I was very resistant to their attempts and could not be cajoled into neglecting my education. They were forced to compromise with me._

_Don't tell me you brought your books to the party..._

Tevos smiled at Aria's keen insight. _I brought my books to the party. And I heard this song there for the first time. I was practicing my mathematics, working out as many problems as I could before the next morning. I wasn't by any means disadvantaged at the subject, but I certainly wouldn't say I was gifted at it. There was no room for any coasting on my part. Were you decent at mathematics?_

_It was easy enough_ , Aria replied. _But I rarely cared much for schooling. In fact when I first heard this song I was skipping my classes at a diner with the... undesirables I used to associate myself with. I'll give you an idea of who we were back then: pocket knives, fashion conformity, and hidden booze flasks._ Aria peered into her glass of deep velvety red wine, swirled it lightly, and took a drink. For a few more pensive seconds she deliberated with herself about whether she should say more, and surprised Tevos when she did. _I actually had a poster of this singer in my bedroom for a while. Do you remember her, what she looked like? I'm almost certain she was my sexual awakening._

Tevos gently and audibly laughed. _I find that terribly difficult to wrap my mind around._

_If you had seen her you wouldn't have thought that,_ Aria retorted, undeterred and unashamed of her younger self's foibles. _I might have fantasized about my first time being with her. You see, I was ambitious even back then. I like to think that I didn't miss my aspirations by a large amount._

_Really? Do tell, now I'm intrigued._

_I've said enough to you. Anything more comes at a price._

_A price? Is the act of buying you overpriced hotel wines not fungible here?_

_Oh, you know me,_ Aria said. She took one last drink from her wine glass before leaving it on the table at her side. _Credits delight me only to a finite extent. Beyond them, I prefer being paid in more exotic ways. It makes things exciting._

_Exotic ways?_ Tevos echoed. _So, what would serve as an example of that?_

_Come closer_ , she told her. _I'll tell you._

Tevos felt her heart squirming in her chest as she made sense of Aria's words and the alluring intent with which she had delivered them. She thought about what she'd promised her, what was mutually roasting in Aria's conscience at this moment, beckoning her closer as if it would prove her honesty. Compelled and finally in an ideal position to answer, Tevos leaned in to kiss her, fondly and meaningfully, while resting a hand on her chest.

_I think you know how to pay me,_ Aria said after coming away from another ghost of a kiss. Their meld began to fade as their hands wandered over and into their robes, making their connection unstable. _I think you've known for a long time._ She hummed when Tevos pressed her lips against the side of her throat, pulling back with the taste of her perfume on her tongue. _And I'm not willing to tell you anything new until you address your other outstanding fees first._

Tevos oriented herself toward Aria and slid her hands forward along her waist, looping her arms around her, and gently kissed her lips again. Aria enjoyed the unexpected ensemble of attention and Tevos enjoyed providing it, simply pleased to see Aria pleased as her lips pressed against her chin, her cheek, and collar, conveying the affection of a lover. Fingers played over her spine as she held her closely.

Hands lifted to stroke fingertips along Tevos's forearms, concurring with the way she boldly sought to possess her—in Aria's mind undoubtedly a prelude teasing at what she had ached to receive from her over a span of time that had not passed with ease, but with seething anticipation.

But there was no need to rush, no time budget to respect, no rapidly accumulating loss of sleeping hours, no sense of urgency to undermine their pleasure. Tevos savored the warmth building between them, the taste of wine bringing her back to the night they spent drinking together in her home; a pleasant and emotional memory which Tevos would always regard with near sanctity. When her hands gripped at the folds of Aria's robe, she merely parted the garb just beneath the belt, letting Tevos's hands delve past its enclosing barrier and run her fingertips along Aria's thighs where she painted sensual promises on her skin.

Aria had waited long enough, Tevos thought as she lingered at her waistband, offering pressure where she craved it. She listened obsessively to the slight strain in Aria's breathing, coaxed out by mind paid to the sensitive region between her legs, tender and responsive to her stroking through the thin layer of clothes that separated them. Her lips found Aria's again. They were soft and enticing from her prior affections, and parted to accept Tevos's advance as if it were a gift.

The cold sensation meeting her brow didn't bother Tevos the first time. She was enraptured by Aria and could not be bothered to divert her curiosity elsewhere. But when it persisted like ice against her cheek, one wet drop after another, finally she ended the deep kiss they presently shared to look outward and realize the weather hadn't approved of their union. The gray had closed in and the winds were invigorated, bearing upon them periodic sprays of rain whose intensity increased each second they spent tolerating them.

Despite her great appreciation for natural weather Tevos quickly retrieved her hands from Aria's robe and stood, but not without bringing her gorgeous companion with her. She tugged Aria by the wrists, urging her to follow her back into the room. Even when warmed and bothered Aria remained operable and competent, demonstrated in her initiative of collecting their drinks before passing through the glass doors right behind Tevos, just as a curtain of wind and rain dappled their backs.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

They found themselves only lightly wetted by pursuing gusts of rain the moment before the balcony door had been shut, and their narrow escape permitted them to immediately retreat to bed rather than be inconvenienced with a search for dry clothes.

Bedsheets were pulled over chilled bodies and cold flesh met as legs entangled, sharing and propagating warmth. Tevos draped her arms around Aria's waist and fitted her chin in the curve of her neck and shoulder, listening to the sheets of rain tapping wildly against the glass while resting in contentment. The door's curtains had not been completely drawn, admitting through a wide column of blue-gray light that glazed their skin, and the sight of water streaming down the glass like winding, clear serpents; so natural yet so foreign a phenomenon to Tevos, a scarce event in her life made doubly sacred by Aria's company.

She considered melding with her again, wanting to show Aria how the rain looked—like joyful tears or a fountain sprung from the heavens, cleansing and forgiving the world, and them, of dishonesty. Aria faced the opposing wall, only exposed to gently writhing shadows cast by light bent after passing through water. But Tevos's question was never posed, lost in favor of allowing them both to succumb to a period of peaceful dozing. Neither spoke and neither thought anything beyond basic comprehension and emotion, half-aware of their serene environment, and filled to the brim with simple pleasure.

Overcome by her ease, Tevos kissed the side of Aria's neck as her hands began wandering anew. Aria gladly permitted her body to be explored, welcoming it like due worship. Hushed exhalations left her lips as Tevos smoothed her hands over her chest, gently squeezing the flesh they cupped, and brushing her thumbs over delicate peaks. She captured her throat in another kiss. One hand teased just below a waistband, and soon the robe draped about Aria's shoulders was pushed down and away, baring her to cool air. It brought rigidity to her limbs, instinctually bracing against the cold.

The councilor could scarcely believe how comfortable and uncomfortable she simultaneously felt with Aria; constantly amassing the necessary confidence to enact intimate traditions, but flustering in equal proportion once the sight of excessive skin greeted her. Her gaze was inevitably drawn to the lovely breasts she had fondled without sight of, and the shallow outline of lean muscle decorating her stomach. Soon Tevos's own robe was stumbling down her shoulders as well, gathering at her waist in rolling white waves as they endeavored to unite themselves. Finally a sigh found Tevos's lips when she leaned over Aria, pressing her chest to hers while she held her by her shoulders and kissed her lips, relieved to at last have Aria, whom she loved and missed, clutched against her body after what had felt like weeks instead of several days.

When Tevos pulled away to admire her, stroking her hands down her naked skin to the robe's thin white belt, she cherished how the steely blue-gray light edged her delicious curves. Aria reminded her of some stunning magazine spread, deliberately and intelligently composed, the severe entirety of her soul stamped on glossy pages.

Beneath her, Aria took advantage of the pause to warmly muse aloud, "When was the last time you made me come, just by touching me...?" The dreamy manner in which she peered up at Tevos, still flushed from being so dotingly embraced and caressed, tugged relentlessly at her heart.

Tevos lightly squeezed her knees around Aria's hips as she straddled her and ran her hands back up along her front. "A while," she breathlessly replied.

"It was our first time," Aria supplied the true answer, sounding just as accusatory as she did relieved to finally be in a situation where that transgression could be rectified.

Tevos dismounted Aria to instead position herself between her legs, where she applied pressure with the palm and fingers of her right hand and felt Aria encouraging her by shifting her legs around her waist, attempting to sit herself up just enough to press herself onto the much-desired touch. But Tevos stopped her with a hand applied to the center of her chest, holding her down with an assertiveness that implicitly bade Aria to relax. Aria complied, simply thrilled to see Tevos taking charge, and likewise did nothing to prevent her when the councilor reached over to the nightstand to retrieve something she had removed from her suitcase earlier and discreetly hid behind the lamp fixture: a pale blue silk ribbon, easily disguised as having no consequential purpose.

The very instant Tevos captured both of Aria's wrists and pulled them in front of her chest, Aria understood her intent and made a low sound in torturous anticipation, appearing as if flooded by reactionary, luscious ideas of what Tevos had planned for her: physical favors that necessitated Aria being restrained so she could not excitedly claw at Tevos when her pleasure began to peak. Although Aria could easily escape the bind on a whim, Tevos trusted that she would respect its presence and appreciate the vow of future satisfaction it professed, and if she didn't, there were other deterrents at her disposal... but they mostly comprised of plain denial. And it was unlikely that Aria would prefer _them_ over the minor compromise imposed by the ribbon.

With a knot tied about Aria's wrists—tight enough to stay relatively secure throughout their inevitable tousling, but loose enough to not cause her discomfort—Tevos held them above her head and kissed her chest, taking the time to admire the breathtaking contrast between the softness of her breasts against her lips and the firm surface of her stomach beneath the fingertips of her free hand. She lowered herself further, wishing to learn everything about her body, how Aria could feel so taut and strong in one area and tenderly pliant in the next. She arrived at the top of her hips, kissing the humble ridges of her pelvis before moving on to her inner thighs. By now Aria had begun subtly lifting her hips, worked up well beyond what she generally permitted from foreplay.

When Tevos pressed her lips between her legs, kissing her through the barrier of her last remaining undergarment, she heard Aria curse in a voice that seemed scarcely her own in its glaring lack of self-discipline. She kissed her again, smoothing her hands up from her thighs, to her hips, and to her waist; luxuriously touching Aria before she migrated lower and hooked her thumbs into her underwear to pull them away. This time, when she kissed her, Aria released a shaky breath and allowed Tevos to take one of her legs and raise it to her shoulder.

Tevos was barely able to comprehend just how soft, willing, and responsive Aria was to her ministrations. How her breathing faltered. How she issued a small groan when she gently pressed her tongue into her, convincing Aria to shallowly roll her hips forward, immediately wanting more from her. Tevos returned her hands to her waist, holding Aria affectionately close as she fulfilled her request to keep her tongue inside her a while longer, teasing her with its warm velvet and only occasionally retreating to kiss and tend to her elsewhere. She pressed her thumbs hard into Aria's pelvis, delighting her with the small throb of pain enhancing by contrast the pleasure blossoming between thighs that willingly fell open for her.

When Tevos brought herself away she heard Aria give an impatient exhale, left ready and yearning for additional care, which Tevos provided once she slipped one finger into her, followed by a second, and felt Aria delicately flutter around them, savoring their intrusion. Tevos withdrew and pressed forward again, each successive stroke made easier and deeper as the power coiled up in Aria's hips gradually yielded to her, persuaded into accepting her digits to the knuckles with the delicacy of pressure applied by her palm's heel as the reward of every thrust. Aria's breaths hastened, small enthused sounds left her throat, and a crease of pleasure marred her brow. But when she began rocking herself onto her hand to restlessly receive her, Tevos made the devastating decision to stop.

A new curse left Aria's lips. "W-what the _hell_ are you stopping for?" she demanded, her voice unsteady from the sudden approach and subsequent loss of relief.

Tevos leaned over Aria and kissed her, leaving her own taste on her tongue before drawing away to state simply, "It was foreplay. Wait here. I'll only be a minute."

Without further explanation she left Aria waiting on the bed, bewildered, offended, and throbbing unbearably with pent-up desire. _Foreplay_ , Aria thought with aggressive derision. Foreplay that almost had her _there_ , had her expecting something she'd been due for weeks now.

She could've resolved things on her own while Tevos was gone. Her hands, though bound, still retained a decent amount of dexterity, but it was not a viable solution. Tevos _owed_ her. Aria would not be the one to perform the recompense meant for her, even if that meant denying herself out of pure spite. So she shut her eyes, willing her burning frustration to recede while Tevos wasted her time with last-minute arrangements.

When Tevos emerged from the adjoining bathroom and returned to the bed, she ignored Aria's glare and settled between her legs again, but not without first kissing the side of her frown.

"Think you're being cute, making me wait even longer?" Aria asked her. The heat of her flesh, and the rate of her heartbeat whenever Tevos felt it thudding beneath her hands, betrayed her show of composure.

She thought it compelling, the way Aria gave what had been meant as a warning, but left her lips with a discernible waver. Tevos ran one hand down the center of Aria's torso and the other clutched her robe shut as she watched her, studying the sultry coincidence of contempt and arousal within Aria's body. Slowly her hand moved, assuaging Aria's frustration and distracting her with more pleasurable thoughts. When Tevos thought her mood adequately repaired and amenable to intimacy again, she finally unclenched the hand keeping her robe closed and parted it as discreetly as she could, but Aria was searching for her unclothed appearance and devoured every stretch of skin she could perceive, all the way down past her abdomen where her gaze fixated.

Aria laughed the instant she saw it, not caring in the slightest how her reaction made Tevos still her hands and close her eyes in exasperation. Whatever remained of Aria's frustration had utterly dissolved upon seeing how modest and covered Tevos attempted to remain despite the obvious protrusion, driving her to say from her supine position beneath her, "Trying to make biotic impotence a bit more romantic...?" She started laughing again.

Keeping her eyes shut, Tevos issued a chagrined sigh. "Please don't use that word..."

"Impotence?" Aria cannily smiled. "Honestly, Tevos... if you had shared your shopping list with me I might've dug up a discount code for you." Her laughter, even as it dwindled, still permeated her tone.

Unwilling to tolerate Aria's typical insolence, Tevos reached up to gently grasp the lower half of her face, with her palm tucked beneath her chin and her thumb and fingers pressing into Aria's cheeks. If Aria's hands were free she would've immediately swatted her away, but now her sole option was turning her head in an attempt to evade Tevos. She didn't release Aria, not until she'd made her point. "Do you know why I went through the trouble? The arrangement, the discretion, your tritely predictable reaction?"

Tevos awaited an answer, but Aria only beheld her with astute blue eyes. She was unable to resist the temptation of lowering her gaze to the juncture of Tevos's thighs, curious for another glimpse past the hem of the bathrobe. The councilor quickly recaptured her attention by squeezing her cheeks to irritate her. "Well, Aria?"

Aria refused to reply with impeded speech, and only spoke once Tevos removed her hand from her face. "Because you're impo—"

_"Because,"_ Tevos cut her off, "I'm doing this for _you._ This is what you wanted, is it not?"

She shrugged as much as she presently could. "Close enough, I suppose," she said.

"Close enough? Well, maybe it'd be best to postpone yet again. I know you don't prefer to settle." Tevos pulled the robe shut over her front and began tying it.

Aria raised her joined fists, meaning to halt her, but her motion stalled when she remembered her limited range of action. Seeing Tevos lift her chin in deriding question—highly amused by her reconsideration—Aria stated without obvious concern, "It isn't what I expected. But I told you, I'm flexible. I don't mind a surprise here and there."

Pleased by Aria's admission, Tevos began loosening the belt of her robe again. The sight of the robe as it slid down to pool about Tevos's waist rekindled the flame inside Aria's core, if the gauzy, lustful light in her eyes were any indication of her interest. Tevos felt Aria rubbing her knees against the sides of her hips, contenting herself by keeping her legs folded around her while the councilor kissed down the exposed column of her throat. She had Aria breathing with noticeable strain before long, her response quickened by the stiffness pressing imposingly against her thigh.

It was easy for Tevos to witness Aria's imagination running wild as she touched her. Insatiably curious and brave to know what lascivious thoughts she entertained, Tevos tenderly asked what Aria was thinking about while her hands descended along enticing curves to secretly decide how she would like to hold her in the future.

"You want to know what I'm thinking about...?" Aria repeated, then gave a small groan when Tevos slipped a pair of slender fingers back into her, slowly stroking against flesh left invitingly sensitive by prior denial. "I'm thinking about..." She sighed now as they moved deftly within her, moderately shifting the position of her legs around Tevos's waist to help her replicate the fit they'd held before she had suddenly abandoned her earlier. Aria hummed into her mouth when Tevos began to kiss her, but managed to say once they parted, "I'm thinking about... how, once you buck up the nerve... how you'll feel inside me." Quietly, roughly, and with no small amount of seductive intent, Aria added, "If you'll feel as good as you look."

Tevos felt as if the temperature of the blood in her cheeks had reached a boiling point. She struggled against the overwhelming surge of embarrassment, determined to not let Aria fluster her and regain too much control even from her arguably disadvantaged position.

She withdrew her fingers, temporarily depriving Aria and leaving her warm and wistful. After seizing her knees and adjusting her long supple legs to fit more comfortably around her waist, Tevos leaned over her again. She provided her hands a home on Aria's waist, precisely where its alluring slope melted into her hips, and very carefully angled herself toward her.

She pressed the tip against her, parting her and merely teasing at penetration but presently denying it in order to accustom herself to wielding an extension of her body she was very much unfamiliar with. For a time she merely rolled her hips forward, letting the length glide between Aria's legs to gather her excessive arousal in preparation, to practice the motions she'd employ once firmly inside her—the thought never failed to make her breath hitch—and to demonstrate what Aria could expect from her soon enough. Gradually she grew more certain in her actions, starting to apply more pressure at each forward movement. By now Aria's labored breaths were imbued with the faintest of sounds, illustrating her terrible want to proceed.

"Don't fucking tease me..." Aria swore, starting to reciprocate the motion of her hips at an angle that suggested taking her in each time Tevos pressed forward. But Tevos postponed her success, first ensuring they were both completely prepared; Tevos in her proficiency, and Aria in her amount of impatience, which reflected how easily Tevos could slide herself into her and properly assert herself, if only she would finally do so.

Her tormenting of Aria eventually came to an end when Tevos succumbed to her inclination of mercy. Affectionately she stroked the sides of Aria's waist, soothing tense muscles as she eased into her, shallowly at first, but was convinced to embolden her advances when Aria knitted her brow and offered her hips forward, letting Tevos know that she need not be overly gentle. She pressed her knee into the councilor's back, communicating her desire for Tevos to have her deeply, but Tevos had nevertheless sought explicit confirmation by asking very softly, "Is it all right...?"

Aria gave a close-lipped moan before breathlessly understating, "Yes... It feels good. _Ohh_ , it's been a while..."

Her words invited Tevos to push more of herself into her, persuading Aria's legs to fall further open as her pelvis neared hers. Though Aria seemed to discernibly fuss, sliding her legs against the sheets as she fought to stay composed while enduring Tevos's unbearably patient style of intimacy, the councilor's profuse fondness for her inspired her to reach out with a meld, offering a way to express her anticipation. When Aria admitted her visiting conscience, Tevos gripped her tightly at the cascade of images, sensations, and urges revealed to her.

Aria wanted Tevos to fill her and treat her roughly, as the vast majority of her powerful mates usually did when she'd goad them into such an irresistible opportunity. She liked it, when those she held in high regard proved their quality throughout all of Aria's clawing, demands, and frequent abuse, surviving the terrible danger she posed while still retaining the ability to bring her a fulfilling end. And here Tevos was, lacking severely in physical constitution, but instead proving her virility through wit and manipulation of the circumstance, so much that Aria actually felt herself somewhat at her mercy as far as sex was concerned. It greatly aroused her, having someone so clever and resourceful poised to satisfy her in a manner she oftentimes didn't experience for years, _always_ for lack of a suitable partner whom she lusted after and respected.

Tevos reflexively sympathized with Aria as she wished that her hands were free so she could carve burning trails into Tevos's back or cathartically twist fistfuls of sheets in her hands to convey the pleasure blooming within her. She was thinking about how _generous_ Tevos had been when selecting from the diverse options available—thick enough to instill an exquisite stretch that made her breathing amorously quaver, humbly ribbed to cater specifically to her pleasure, and placing much-needed pressure on sensitive regions where the much shorter length of her fingers could not reach. Aria told Tevos to touch her, confident that she'd be able to handle all of it once spared some encouragement. Tevos complied only when she had attenuated their meld, just enough to not be distracted by Aria's raging desires, but still in a position to easily gauge her mood. A hand lowered between Aria's legs to help her along.

She withdrew, although incompletely as to not garner Aria's disdain, and upon slowly pressing forward again she was rewarded by a quieted groan escaping Aria's lips, too precious and lovely a sound to not repeat what she'd done to elicit it. Very mindful of her comfort, Tevos paced herself well as Aria relaxed and admitted her deeper, too fixated on the ministrations of the hand between her legs to mind her body's eager compliance. From their shallow meld Tevos could feel Aria squeezing around her, sending small waves of pleasure fluttering up along her spine and driving her hips instinctually forward, always seeking more.

There finally arrived a moment when Tevos reduced her prominent presence in Aria's mind for fear of decaying self-control, having incisively predicted the instant at which the sides of her pelvis touched Aria's thighs, and found the sight of her—on her back with her legs covetously wrapped around her waist, chest rising and falling as her heart pounded beneath her fingertips, with the firm shaft buried nearly to its hilt within her—utterly breathtaking. All of it; the way Aria shut her eyes, tipped her head back as she fretted in the satisfying ache, and permitted her voice to carry a heady moan before she managed to taunt, "Ohh, _Councilor..."_ Although she obviously meant to sabotage Tevos's lasting poise, she had failed to conceal the underlying sincerity of her brief address.

After collecting herself, Tevos quietly gave a teasing rebuttal of her own, " _Madam_ Councilor, tonight."

She nearly made Aria laugh, and she might have, had Tevos not continued to touch her and distract her agonizingly along with the thick extension inside her, its presence just as possessive as she had craved and imagined. A clever quip sufficed for the time being. "Madam Councilor," Aria gave a subdued repetition as if sampling the addition to her normal title, testing how the provocative syllables felt on her tongue. "Listen to you, saying things like that... I think you're flirting with me."

"Considering my position... it might be rude not to," said Tevos. She stroked Aria's outer thigh with her free hand, letting it roam. Her palm and fingers wrapped around her hip and held her reasonably still while she proceeded, tastefully experimenting with different rhythms and applications of force until she'd found a combination that made Aria sigh reliably.

Aria liked it steady and firm, and liked it even more when Tevos periodically smoothed her hands down her chest and stomach, appraising and admiring how her powerful body yielded to her. Soon she laid a hand on Aria's cheek and jaw where she feathered her fingertips over her lips and worked up the nerve to tenderly whisper to her on her own mildly winded voice. She let Aria know that she thought she was lovely, praised her for how well-behaved she had been when confronted by the condition of being bound, and asked her how long she had been waiting for Tevos to provide her this manner of gratification. Aria could hardly reply. She was too enraptured by the sensations enveloping her; graceful hands washing over her, soft bedsheets cradling her back as her hips were driven into them repeatedly, filled by a gratifying swell that for once was not connected to a source of incompetence.

Tevos wanted to deepen their meld to better glimpse how close she was, to distract herself from the fatigue developing in muscles infrequently used, and to assure herself that she was making Aria feel as good as she hoped. But she dismissed the impulse.

Instead of pushing Aria over the edge she was racing toward, Tevos pulled her back, slowing substantially despite Aria insistently pressing forward, still expecting to receive her and send pleasure shuddering through her nerves, yet presently only able to compensate for what Tevos no longer provided. To discourage her Tevos withdrew a bit, her denial eliciting a frustrated groan from Aria as she realized her aim. Shallow, unhurried strokes replaced her former passion as she eased Aria down.

"I knew... I knew you were a fucking tease," Aria lamented her decision to trust Tevos.

Before she could complain any further, Tevos attempted to placate her by cupping her cheek with a hand, stroking her with a thumb, and saying unsteadily, "Aria, darling... I want you to wait just a bit longer." She stilled her hips, leaving herself motionless inside her. Aria was unbearably warm everywhere she touched her, roasting in the flames of her need.

"Calling me darling doesn't make up for this," said Aria. A scowl had returned to her face, which Tevos tried to erase by kissing her. "Stop screwing around and—"

Tevos chose that moment to inquire, "Why were you flirting with Nerava earlier?"

Aria made a guttural sound. "Because... I thought maybe she'd fuck me better than you would. I was probably right."

It wasn't the truth, but merely an opportunity to fight her. Tevos responded calmly, "She's bonded. And expecting."

"And just how do I care about either of those things...?"

"Just tell me why you did it."

"Fuck you, Coun—"

" _Madam_ Councilor?"

The wryest of smiles and breaths of laughter emerged from Aria. It was hard for Tevos to tell whether antagonizing Aria was pissing her off or _getting_ her off, and meanwhile Aria was flailing in the exact same dilemma. So many conflicts were writhing in her mind, but whether to refrain from instantly regaining control over the situation, or to weather through the rude treatment and prove that she could handle _anything_ Tevos imposed, was a particularly pronounced issue. But no matter her ultimate decision, Aria would not lie to herself by pretending that she wasn't absolutely wet for Tevos, the terrible _Madam Councilor_ with the delicate hips and delicate hands that clutched her with the demeanor of someone monumentally more robust, who somehow thought it her prerogative to tell Aria what to do, who frustrated her until her inner thighs glistened and beseeched attention.

Perhaps she _was_ being a bit cruel to her, Tevos thought, in overcompensating for her lack of physical potency. She decided not to push Aria too far, and intentionally retired her question to her.

For a time Tevos let her calm and cool down, spending the lull with her lips against her skin, often returning to her mouth, and didn't much mind how Aria's tied fists pushed into her chest whenever she held them closely together. Eventually the kindness of her touch convinced Aria to kiss her in reciprocation, indulging in both chaste and deep caresses that kept the embers of Aria's arousal glowing healthily. Only when her urgency had considerably receded did Tevos start shallowly rocking her hips into her again, leisurely sating a small portion of her desire.

When she deemed it an appropriate time, Tevos reintroduced the depth she had deprived her of, perceivably contenting Aria once she felt its thickness parting and massaging her again whenever Tevos moved her hips. With her legs wrapped around her, secure in their demand, Tevos reinstated their shallow meld. She listened to what Aria wanted from her and performed it, drawing from the stamina returned to her during their pause to find by Aria's guidance an angle that pulled fragile sounds from her throat, and discovering how much she liked it when Tevos grasped and kneaded her breasts while having her like this. In her mind Aria commanded that she not deviate from anything she was presently doing, save for employing more force, more aggression, qualities she craved to supplement her imminent release, expressing to Tevos how it always brought about a pacifying sense of gratification at having mated with someone strong and worthwhile, someone who could pose an actual challenge to her dominance, someone daring enough to hurt her like she'd hurt them—

Tevos could scarcely handle some of the thoughts swimming through her head, and not just those that made her furiously blush. Many of them posed overwhelming demands that were simply not in her nature to meet. While she could certainly be confident and officiating with her, Tevos found the specific power Aria wanted to lie outside her personal ability.

There was a solution, a workaround, a simulation of such vigor—something Aria may not easily take to—but if it had the potential to deeply satisfy her, as was the ultimate aim, it was worth proposing. It was only unfortunate that she asked her when Aria was starting to breathe hard again, tightening around the length fitted between her legs as her peak steadily approached. When Tevos stopped, a string of acidic profanities filled their shared mental space.

"What the _fuck_ is your problem?" Aria cursed aloud. She strained against her bindings, threatening to rip free of them the instant her residual patience ran dry.

Tevos swiftly relocated her hands from her breasts to her fists, trying to hold her still. _Wait_ , she silently told her through their connection. _I need you to do something for me._

_Fuck...!_ Aria emphatically and viciously replied. Inwardly, she was a frustrated mess; her desires inflamed but left agonizingly unfulfilled. Carnal thoughts twisted aimlessly through her head, vividly illustrating how her dancers would've never done this to her, how they would've sweetly tended to her every need and helped their Queen spend herself on their loving hands as many times as she wanted, how she could've been in the company of _two_ passionate admirers instead of being here, tormented to her limits by a damned Citadel politician—

_Turn over for me._

The restless noise of Aria's mind went silent for an instant as she processed the request. _Excuse me?_ she thought, far more offended by the audacity of expecting Aria to adhere to propositions when she hadn't even been remotely compensated, than the actual proposition itself. _Why? So you can fuck around with me some more? I know when I'm being cheated._

Tevos had anticipated the response. Without explaining in words she merely showed Aria what she intended, painting her example with semblances of sensation and meaning. She shared with her how she adored Aria's beautiful and athletic physique, how her voice roughened and lowered with sex, how she couldn't wait to see her shoulder blades shifting as she gripped at the sheets, how she'd take advantage of the new position to fill her completely and make Aria moan in earnest. Most importantly, she lavished her with promises that she'd bring Aria the end she longed for without any further interruption, so long as Aria made this small adjustment for her.

Aria swallowed stiffly while considering her offer, bleeding a volatile mixture of skepticism and aching desire into Tevos's mind. The councilor continued to caress her with more of the same promise, imploring Aria to comply. Gradually, Aria made her decision. It was extraordinarily rare for her to position herself as such for anyone. She made that quite clear. She also made it clear that she was doing this partly because waiting for satisfaction was exhausting her.

As a token of trustworthiness, Tevos untied the ribbon about her wrists and leaned down to kiss her, feeling Aria's newly-freed hands brushing against the back of her neck and shoulder as they tasted one another. When they parted, Tevos heard a hitch in Aria's breathing when she once again left her empty, gripped her waist, and helped roll her over onto her front. Aria rested the side of her face on the pillow while Tevos propped up her hips on another, then let her hands smooth down the sides of her waist as they had many times before when convincing her to relax. Her touch soon migrated to her lightly-scarred but otherwise flawless back, massaging her tenderly and sensually. She could feel Aria's arousal waxing again, pooling between her legs where new wetness gathered along with what already made her completely inviting. Unable to deny her for long, Tevos pressed at her entrance, beginning to penetrate her, and witnessed Aria's fingers curling around fistfuls of sheets in anticipation for what she hoped was the last round. And too sympathetic to stand it, Tevos receded their meld to only faint whispers of shared experience.

Appreciation permeated Tevos at how ready Aria remained for her. She slightly arched her back while eagerly receiving everything Tevos offered, finding herself able to take in a bit more than she had previously. Aria relished the minor but noticeable additional depth, and when a pair of hands returned to her hips, she moaned into her pillow. Tevos hesitantly asked if she was comfortable, to which Aria replied by giving a rough, urgent _yes_. Aria was fretting impatiently again, failing to still herself as she rocked her hips, trying to ride the generous attachment.

"Fuck me," Aria nearly hissed in a self-conflicted, desperate command. Tevos could see muscles in her back tensing, and heard very faintly in the back of her mind, _and do it right this time._

She was rewarded by a relieved sigh from Aria when she started off slowly, searching for the best angle and most agreeable placement of limbs to maintain until the end. She rubbed her fingers into Aria's pelvis as she held her, appeasing her as her boldness grew, and she was sure to be just as thorough and assertive with Aria as before, using their position to help supplement the sense of possession and authority she exerted solely for Aria's benefit. She seemed successful by how Aria had reached beneath herself to grasp her own breast, and permitted a string of groans and sighs to stumble past her parted lips and into the muffling face of the pillow.

Tevos delved back into her thoughts again, feeling Aria welcome her in just as readily as she allowed her into her body. She was incredibly pent up, albeit luxuriating in a peculiar blend of vanity and physical pleasure. She was dwelling on how desirable she was now, how alluring she must have looked, how anyone in the universe would be viciously jealous of the privilege to propitiate and fulfill her so intimately. And how they would envy her impeccable taste, having selected a partner who filled her with such wild and untempered lust, who had the gall to postpone her satisfaction until every thought besides sex had vacated her mind, leaving her wet and willing to accommodate anything Tevos offered or imposed.

Despite her vocalized protests against being made to wait, Aria acknowledged that she had _loved_ it, loved how skillfully Tevos had handled her, persuaded her, laid her down on her front like few others had ever managed even after tremendous effort on their part. She could hardly wait until the moment Tevos made her come, knowing she would feel the pleasure seeping into her bones. Merely thinking about her inevitable peak brought the first anticipatory contractions to her inner walls, anxiously shivering around the length consistently stroking against a spot deep within her that made her moan.

Her thoughts flattered and aroused Tevos to the point where she couldn't bear leaving Aria's mind this time. Knowing how much she wanted her to, Tevos tried coddling her with affectionate directives of, _Easy, easy, easy, slow down..._ to prolong her swelling bliss, promising again that she'd let her unravel soon. She tightened her grip on Aria's hips as much as she could, conforming to her preference, and listened to Aria saying, "Don't stop... _Ohh_ —Just like that, don't stop..." as the sounds she made climbed in frequency and pitch. And she did not stop this time. Tevos built her up past any hope of calming her down again, tending to Aria to the best of her ability until she pressed her hips back to force Tevos into her deeply, and let a hybrid of a moan and whimper leave her lips, only to be cut short as her release finally uncoiled in her core. The tension in Aria's body seemed to peak and recede altogether within a matter of seconds as Tevos felt her come harder than she had in recent memory, issuing sighs and lower groans while Tevos firmly held her hips forward to keep her at those heights for as long as possible.

When Aria regained her voice she again urged Tevos not to stop, and she complied as soon as she was remotely able to; continuing to apply pressure against the spot Aria liked though the aftershocks of her orgasm, following Aria's mentally-issued demands closely, unrelenting in her attention and grip on her, and determined to take exceptional care of her as she unwound. Aria was consumed by her, bathing in indulgent thoughts while highly agitated by the reality that a politician was sweetly buried inside her, dismantling her steely composure, her cold intellect, her undaunted posture into a flustered disaster of nerves, leaving her shivering and biting her lip just hard enough to silence the soft cries of pleasure yearning to escape her throat. Yet she didn't want her to stop, didn't want to feel the loss of fullness swelling within her, the dual sense of being serviced and taken beyond her jurisdiction.

Her frantic thoughts only helped fuel the moment when she approached the edge again, utterly engulfed by how smoothly the stiff extension glided into her at every persistent thrust, how it still coaxed out pacifying aftershocks frequently enough to send her stumbling over her limit a second time, drawing out another velvety moan from her lips as she squeezed her thighs around those holding hers apart. It was far less intense and lasted shorter than the first, but deemed incredibly worthwhile as they came down; Tevos remaining inside her as Aria savored the remnants of her pleasure, and both catching their breath.

Aria gave a final, subdued sigh when Tevos carefully withdrew, clutching at her pillow and resting there for a moment while basking in the afterglow. Tevos placed her hands on Aria's back, stroking her warm skin devotedly until Aria pushed herself up to a kneel. She could see marks from the folds in the pillowcase pressed onto one side of her face, considerably disheveling Aria's appearance.

"Fucking hell," Aria said, her voice still breathless with sex. She shakily secured her fingers around her underwear, but stopped to briefly touch herself; tenderly slipping a few fingers between her legs to feel how wet and sensitive Tevos had left her. " _Ohh..._ I feel like a maiden again," she sighed, letting Tevos wrap her arms around her waist and kiss the back of her neck. She withdrew her fingers, meaning to pull her underwear over her hips, but as Tevos applied her lips to her shoulder, she flattened her hands against her stomach and let one descend until two of her digits had filled Aria again, making her exhale audibly.

Tevos enjoyed how Aria felt in her arms; terribly warm, strong, and ravishing. She continued to kiss her skin as she slowly worked her fingers into her, not quite meaning to instigate anything new, but to rather hang on to what had just passed them, unwilling to let the moment go. She curled her digits and felt Aria reflexively digging her nails into her knee.

"Can't get enough of me...?" Aria taunted her, though there was a hint of strain in her voice.

"Of course not." Tevos kissed her neck, convincing Aria to part her knees just enough to help her continue lazily thrusting into her, content with simply being inside her a while longer to reassert that Aria was unequivocally _hers,_ at least for the day. She kissed her countless times as her free hand roamed her chest, briefly kneading and squeezing her breasts before splaying along her taut stomach. "Do you know why I made you wait?"

"Because you're a closeted sadist?" breathed Aria. She willfully accepted her unhurried rhythm, humming at how Tevos still remained inside her despite how delicate and tender she was. Aria didn't mind. At this point, she would've let Tevos touch her until it hurt to have anything within her.

A hushed breath of laughter departed Tevos. "It was because I kept tiring out."

Aria laughed in response, although it ended in a small grunt as Tevos delved deeper. "Physically underwhelming _and_ biotically impo—" She stopped when Tevos placed her left hand over her lips, rather playfully silencing her before gently retrieving her fingers from between her thighs and kissing Aria on her cheek.

When custody of her body had suddenly been returned to her, Aria nearly appeared winded in both demeanor and action as she shakily ran a hand over her features and began gathering up her clothes. Tevos saw her turn her attention onto her robe hanging half on and half over the side of the bed, which she promptly donned once she had managed to pull on her underwear; an article that must have cost at least as much as a few blouses Tevos owned, yet treated so expendably by its owner, who roughly clutched and tugged at the fine waistband while clothing herself to basic decency. One leg slid over the edge of the bed, holding her up a bit unsteadily until the second had joined the first. When Aria pulled her arms through the sleeves of the robe Tevos watched the white flow unclosed around her waist and legs, fixating on the peculiar elegance of her stance shining through her plain dishevelment, until the moment she tied it shut.

A dull throb lingered between Tevos's legs as she reflected on reality in a slight daze, just as she had the first time they were together. Stilled by memories of Aria beneath her, moaning like velvet, arching as if she were keenly aware of how breathtakingly sexy she looked and drawing even more pleasure from her own unbridled vanity, Tevos could not be moved from her position—upright on her knees—by any force save for the subtle look of beckoning Aria sent her when she glanced back over her shoulder. Compelled as she often was by Aria, Tevos joined her at the bedside where she looped her arms around her warm waist and kissed her neck.

Aria hummed at the humble wave of pleasure the caress sent washing over her nerves, and quietly remarked, "I like it, when you do that..."

"When I do what?" Tevos asked against her throat, her tone soft and loving. "When I kiss you?" She did so again, tenderly beneath her jaw.

"Mm-hmm... Especially after you've fucked me."

At last, Tevos found herself able to resist the flush of violet trying to paint her face, and fought back with confidence. "Would you like to know what _I_ like...?"

Aria remained still for Tevos when she kissed her lips. "Tell me," she replied with an amorous smile.

She leaned in to deliver her answer, whispering quietly beside Aria's head while one hand admiringly stroked the opposite side of her neck, and the other pressed into her lower back. The indecent words she uttered thrilled Aria divinely.

"I've been waiting to hear you say something like that," Aria purred. "I knew you had it in you, ever since you sent me that message a while back... It almost gave me chills."

Tevos sought the white belt keeping the robe's lapels together and easily slipped her hands past its presented barrier, finding Aria's skin. She ghosted her fingertips along her back and waist as if inspired by Aria's words, eager to reproduce their effect with her touch alone. Partial success was achieved when she noticed Aria subtly biting her lip as her hands rested on Tevos's forearms. Aria was still very much interested. Beside them both, the moody weather continued to beat ceaselessly against the glass door over which the pale curtains hung half-drawn in their earlier haste to reenter the room.

"Come here," Tevos softly impelled her with a pleasant smile. "You're sorely mistaken if you think I'm finished with you..."

Aria did not require further invitation. Though she returned to bed with Tevos, they considerably postponed resumption of intimacy by merely resting a while, spending time at the mercy of their own wandering hands; busy yet never overly ambitious, rather inquiring where the other wished to be touched.

At one point Aria had taken hold of what remained waiting on Tevos's hips, her grip incontrovertible and full of purpose as it often was. Tevos sent her a disarming expression until Aria bothered to explain, but by no innocent means. She conveyed her desires through speech instead of deferring to the vastly more nuanced language of thought. No, she wanted to employ the unpolished abrasion of words, it seemed to Tevos. That same uncouth poetry Tevos scolded her for, paradoxically the most effective measure she retained. Aria wanted nothing more than to see her _react_ —even recoil—on a visceral level.

Tevos lightly ran her fingernails along Aria's back and shifted the position of her legs beneath the sheets, sliding them along the cool fabric and brushing against her companion's. She let Aria kiss and bite her however she pleased between her promises, made delightfully careless and amenable to everything she said to her.

She slowly fretted a bit beneath the attention, rubbing her legs against Aria's with more insistent request for something she couldn't ascertain herself, but knew immediately when Aria provided it. Her quieted voice caressed her as words unfurled on her skin and a hand grasped at her chest. Aria spoke of how she couldn't stop thinking about what they had done just a short while ago, how she still _ached_ and wanted more. She was romantic and vulgar in the same sentence as she clarified what had inspired her intentions for the councilor—a quite interminable list that brought a tinge of violet to Tevos's cheeks. She felt Aria searching her hips, trying to relieve her of the obstacle she held there.

When she had, still Aria kissed her, touched her, and spoke vulgarly, offering to show Tevos precisely how she had made her feel and reminding her of what she'd gleaned while they had melded. Aria promised that it had felt even better than she thought. At that time Aria seized her waist and guided her to lie on her front before sliding her hands along Tevos's arms until they wrapped around her wrists, pinning them to the mattress. The possessive, famished words of lust spilling from her lips painted countless sultry illustrations; the sheer want of being inside her, of feeling her, as Aria reminded her of just why she was so coveted in any bed. She fit a knee between her thighs and applied savory pressure, meanwhile her hands settled acquisitively on Tevos's back, admiring how she lay concurring with her contagious ideas of intimacy. But before long she drew away and dismayed Tevos by pulling the sheets over her bare back and all its intricate white ornamentation. Aria advised her to stay still as the muffled sound of clothing being manipulated reached her notice.

While she waited, a heavy insinuation of just what Aria ached to reciprocate uncontrollably grew within Tevos's conscience. Impatience slowly burgeoned in her core in equal proportion as she faced the balcony doors and the waterfall of rain gliding down its surface. Such cold atmosphere fought to temper the hot anticipation she felt, consumed by all the notions Aria had planted in her conscience. Everything that made her squeeze her thighs together, breathe with increasing tension, and very lightly and cathartically press her hips into the mattress, simulating the treatment Aria would inevitably provide. She slid her hands comfortably beneath the pillow she rested her head upon, her mind fraught with expectations.

She hadn't anticipated that Aria would want to proceed on the course she now set them on. Aria was perfectly capable in her biotics and had little need for the help Tevos had enlisted. She didn't understand why Aria wanted this, but supposed she merely craved variety and what could possibly result in a new shared preference. Regardless, she reserved no qualm about it, and almost sighed in relief when she felt Aria pulling back the sheets and fitting strong hands on her waist, releasing her from her musings and returning her to the quivering present.

"I'm going to be a little rough with you this time," Aria said, her voice quiet and soft despite the nature of her statement. She had spoken to her so clemently, with her tone so absolutely infused with mindful care, that Tevos couldn't isolate the vaguest reason to object. "But you let me know if I'm hurting you."

Tevos merely sighed and relaxed to communicate her understanding, distracted and warmed unbearably by the way she felt a recognizable stiffness between her legs, a bit cold against her inner thighs but capturing her full interest nonetheless. She hoped Aria would not make her wait excessively as Tevos had done to her. It had been a special circumstance, something Aria had retroactively declared as _precisely_ what she had needed, but such was not the case anymore. Tevos wanted very little aside from having Aria inside her as she'd promised, and to feel her steady grip on her body, unyielding and certain.

Placing a hand between her legs, Aria groaned with anticipation before stating, "Mmm, I can't wait to fuck you..."

"And what makes you so confident that I'll let you..?" Tevos lowly asked in response. Even so, she shallowly angled her hips to meet her. While clutching the pillow beneath her head, she gave an uneven sigh of approval when one digit, shortly followed by a second, slipped into her to find how wet she was from their prior tousling, and whether she was ready for her.

"A good hunch," said Aria, exquisitely pleased by the warm silk enveloping her fingers.

Tevos delicately hummed when Aria began working herself deeper with slow, drawn-out thrusts. "Based on what reasoning...?" she breathlessly inquired. Again she improved the placement of her legs, encouraging Aria's deft fingers to fill her to their knuckles. When Aria fulfilled her desire, Tevos unstably inhaled.

"Because you adore me." She curled her fingers, bringing a small gasp to the councilor's lips.

Though her voice terribly wavered, Tevos managed to state, "That's a bit of a hyperbole... isn't it...?"

"Not in the slightest." Aria gave a few conciliatory thrusts to tease her before she withdrew, leaving the councilor immediately anxious to feel her again.

It wasn't like biotics, when Aria held her tightly and reassuringly as she started. Whenever Aria used biotics she had always adjusted accordingly for what Tevos had been able to comfortably accommodate, but the dimensions of the attachment were constant and non-negotiable according to either of their preferences. Unused to an invariable width being eased into her, Tevos couldn't help but whimper while Aria canted her hips forward again. If this was how Aria had felt earlier, Tevos thought, she was substantially impressed by her ability to have kept relatively quiet throughout, retaining enough composure to taunt and joke. But still she wanted her, wanted Aria to have her in this manner; enduring how cold each bit of additional length felt upon initially entering her, how it faintly hurt her, and how harshly Aria pressed her fingers into her pelvis to reaffirm her dominance and how assertively she'd vowed to bed her.

A quiet sigh left her lips and bled into the pillow as Aria allowed one hand to slip beneath her where she slowly touched her, heightening Tevos's enjoyment of what might've otherwise been overwhelming. She shallowly rocked against her hand, gratified so much by her careful motions that the arresting stretch she felt within her softened to a pleasant ache. Aria's thrusts, thoroughly invited and encouraged, soon grew in vigor as she returned both hands to Tevos's hips and permitted her to keep touching herself if she so desired. But she resisted temptation for now, savoring how deeply Aria reached and how often the weighted urging of her hips would deliciously press against a spot that rarely failed to pull appreciative moans from her throat. She relished the strength of her enthusiasm, the way she gripped her hard and filled her sweetly and brutally.

She couldn't help but whine Aria's name, reach back to brace her palm against the top of her stomach, and curl her fingers against her skin when trying to secure some remnant of leverage to withstand Aria's overpowering control. Beneath her hand she could feel Aria's tensed muscles, rising and falling swiftly along with her breathing, and reflecting the strain in her voice when she asked Tevos if she was hurting her, using the endearment of _sweetheart._

Although fiercely biting nails had left crescent-shaped imprints on her thighs, and although the ache edging her pleasure had torn many unbecoming whimpers from her lips, Tevos responded _no_ , as coherently as she could. The very moment she did, Aria seized her wrist, peeled her hand away from her body, and roughly pinned it to the bed before she audibly cursed, told Tevos how sexy she thought she was, and confessed how much she wanted to have her like this very late into the night.

Aria made her feel just as sexy as her compliments described. She had a lovely way of taking her that always made her feel sensual and irresistible, bringing about a complex of confidence entwined with submissive desire. The way Aria held her down so audaciously while driving her hips into her, filling and undoing her exquisitely as if urgent to assert her quality... Invariably, it was all meant to impress her, and Tevos was indeed impressed each time Aria bedded her. It was certainly why she had allowed Aria to be so aggressive with her now; a privilege so rarely earned that she'd nearly forgotten what such unique force felt like, or how it felt to be possessed so completely.

Her quickening thrusts nearly made her seem desperate for something, in how Aria's fervor nearly slipped into inconsistency. Aria's reasons were easy enough to understand. She was compensating for earlier when they'd last been in bed together, when she had been arguably subordinate to Tevos. Now she was putting on display all her best attributes to prove viability as an ideal mate. And so lacking was Tevos in immunity to Aria's terrible charm in the bedroom, that she struggled greatly against swirling, flustered instincts which profoundly wanted to shove Aria, to pierce the flesh of her forearms with her fingernails, to harm her, even curse at her, although she didn't know why. Her best explanation, contrived in the heat of things, was because Aria was faintly hurting her _and_ pleasing her, thus confusing her.

These urges were embarrassingly primitive. If Tevos had been unlucky enough to have been currently melding with Aria, it was extremely likely that Aria would've happily fed the fires of her strange antagonism. As of now she could only infer the cause of her agitation. Perhaps it was the conflicted sense of readily inviting someone like Aria to have her in a manner she permitted to no one else, dueling the immense pride of her office. Aria's subversive boldness perturbed her and aroused her, inflamed both indignity and pleasure within her. It was alike Aria's dilemma. She shared it with her; a disorienting contradiction of self-ascribed power and the gratification of being bedded by someone exerting the illusion of having more. Tevos had the intense urge to fight Aria, just as she had earlier noticed the same feeling in her. Yet she also adored the idea of Aria _winning_ , so much that she'd involuntarily squeeze around her each time she entertained herself with thoughts of Aria's severe, commanding direction.

At last her oceanic volumes of patience depleted and Tevos pushed a hand beneath her own abdomen, guiding it down between her legs where she touched herself far more gently than what might've been substituted by Aria. Shortly after her delicate ministrations had fallen into the pattern Aria had prescribed did Tevos find herself hurtling past the point of no return, but rather than immediately meeting her end Aria insistently carried her higher with every powerful thrust, prolonging and building the blissful climb until Tevos inevitably failed against the steepness of it.

A weak cry left her lips when she came, the sound mostly lost to the surface of her pillow as she was consumed by the raw and arresting treatment Aria subjected her to. She could feel the muscles in Aria's thighs flexing against her skin. She could feel Aria's lithe fingers sliding into the shallow valleys that met between her legs and her thumbs pressing firmly into her backside as she held her down, and she could feel, very favorably, the delightful texture of the attachment stroking her as she fluttered around it, impractically wishing it were possible for Aria to have her deeper and harder despite how thoroughly she was already unraveling her now.

Tevos was inclined to wonder if they had broken their unofficial record of five minutes. It certainly felt that way to her, so long as they did not include the few minutes during which they'd lightly wrestled beneath the sheets as Aria whispered lewd promises against her head. Was it achievement or shortcoming? The answer wasn't obvious to her. Tevos's gratification lingered somewhere between vast appreciation for Aria's skill as a lover, and a nagging lust for more, feeling as though fulfillment had arrived and departed too swiftly to be enjoyed.

When Aria asked her if she wanted it again, Tevos breathlessly uttered her truthful answer of _yes_. Aria only delayed to retrieve the ribbon, seizing Tevos's wrists to tie them behind her back, though always remaining attentive for the slightest protest, but Tevos was too curious to object. Too curious to know how Aria had felt at her insinuated mercy, forced into patience and denied the privilege of control. Aria started easing herself into her again, bringing a delicate sound to the councilor's lips as she was filled with minimal resistance, still left excessively warm, relaxed, and accommodating from her first orgasm. When Aria offered her the company of a meld, Tevos accepted immediately and found herself subjected to all the licentious inventions of her mind—terrible, wonderful ideas that intensified the blush staining her cheeks as Aria found and settled into a slower rhythm.

This time, Aria prolonged their time together. She was gentler and calmer out of the satisfaction she had obtained earlier when she'd been rough with Tevos, desperate to steal away her authority and reverse the dynamic she had engendered between them. Now that she'd been successful, Aria's impatience had been assuaged. All that she broadcasted to Tevos through their meld consisted of the pleasure they shared, and the reminder that she was _hers_ , that she liked being hers, just as she had reciprocally been possessive of Aria.

It felt more like lovemaking to Tevos. Tender, authoritative, and affectionate all at once; unhurried and considerate in the way she sometimes grasped her bound hands to remind her of their state. Aria used their meld to convey what she perceived. Visions of skin decorated by white, slender shoulders and a neck that curled into each caress Aria gave with her lips, and most prominently, whenever Aria would glimpse what occurred between them each time she offered her hips forward, while profusely complimenting how well Tevos received her.

The slow pace felt torturous, particularly with the vivid memory of how quickly Aria had made her come the first time freshly in mind and always teasing her with its contrast. Now she was given far too much ability to pay ample mind to everything Aria did to her, how she kept her from moving to suggest the quicker rhythm she craved or to prevent her from interfering with the overwhelmingly deliberate angle at which Aria consistently chose to withdraw. She felt as though Aria coaxed more wetness from between her legs each time she did so, leaving her anxiously ready for the moment when Aria firmly thrust forward again to generously fill her. She moaned into her pillow, trying to recall the last time someone else had made her feel this way, or the last time someone had reached so deeply into her, and could not.

Only after she had made her come a second time—an end that felt stumbled upon in its sudden, pacifying arrival—did Aria withdraw from her, free her hands, and guide Tevos onto her side where she lowered her head between her thighs and once again endeavored to outperform. They hadn't yet ceased fretting for an optimal position when Tevos quietly whimpered upon feeling Aria press her tongue into her, parting sensitive flesh that so easily yielded to her intrusion. Aria wrapped her arms and hands around her legs, drawing them helplessly over her shoulders as she claimed her self-issued reward. Tevos trembled beneath her, fumbling for grip to weather the profuse attention while her hips ever so gently rocked against Aria's mouth on their own, offering herself and imploring that Aria afford her more. Upon her request, Aria returned her hands to her hips, holding her steady to mitigate the building need in them, and gave a low hum to convey fondness. It brought an uneasy sigh to Tevos's lips as the vibration of her vocal cords radiated blissfully from her core.

Tevos hadn't realized her own capacity or interest in surviving much more. She had believed herself thoroughly spent before Aria had decided to continue indefinitely. Meanwhile, Aria's experience was patent. She kissed her, reached up to squeeze her breasts, and often slipped back into her to taste her with the unbearably warm and slick presence of her tongue, making Tevos instinctively try to close her thighs around her, but Aria forcefully held her open, groaning roughly with the sole purpose of sending another shudder of pleasure through Tevos.

In revenge, as Tevos had once done to her, Aria pulled away prematurely, leaving her bedmate softly panting beneath her in the absence of satisfaction. But almost immediately had Aria pulled her onto her lap, drawing her slender legs around her waist and lifting her hips to hold the tip of the attachment against her entrance. Aria reclined back against the pillows and lay comfortably while tormenting her, only guiding her down and penetrating her to a very minimal extent. She held onto Tevos's hips harshly to prevent her from taking in anything more until she allowed her to, almost bruising her the more she fought to lower herself. For now, Aria was content to watch her and ruminate about how pleasing the sight of the councilor fretting on her lap was, raking her nails down her stomach and appearing as if she were seconds away from shoving Aria for her cruelty. A frustrated exhale left Tevos's lips as Aria obstinately prolonged her wait.

She continued holding Tevos at bay to torment her, gladly enduring her fingernails. Her strength easily kept her in place even when she gave the smallest upward urge of her hips to taunt her. The way Aria denied her gratification while it palpably lingered within reach had decimated Tevos's remaining patience.

Aria guided her down when she could resist no longer, letting Tevos envelop as much as she desired and could accomodate. Tevos very softly moaned while she filled her, her hips purposely canted to find the angle of approach that pleased her the most. She curled her fingers against Aria's shoulders when she settled deeply within her, already having found and intentionally pressed upward and against a spot that forced a small whine along with a sigh Tevos gave. Swiftly she relocated her hands to the sheets, gathering and twisting fistfuls of them as she slowly rolled her hips and began to ride her, with Aria's enthusiastic help.

Aria could not contain the rough groan building in her throat while sliding her hands upward to grip her waist. Through this point of connection Aria poured into her, fervently requesting access to her mind and promptly receiving it as soon as Tevos felt her. An uneasy breath found Aria's lips when she was exposed to the raw sensation coursing them both: a glowing furnace of arousal, of sensitive flesh and trembling emotion. Aria felt so covetous of her, brimming with such profound and immense satisfaction at having made the councilor her bedmate, at being assertively within her where she took great pride in demonstrating her quality. Making her tremble and weakly clutch at her, making her endure the intemperate display of strength and authority so long as she would have her.

A hand was removed from Tevos's waist and diligently rested against her jaw while a thumb pressed into her parted lips. Aria watched her then, studying the upward draw of her brow and willfully permitting Tevos to bite or gently kiss her hand whenever she bucked hard into her.

"Mmm, just look at you," Aria said, her low satiny bedroom voice sending a shiver of dismantling pleasure up Tevos's spine when it accompanied a particularly delicious thrust. It brought a few light contractions to her inner walls, preluding the inevitable. "You like it when I'm inside you like this, don't you...?" When her voice faltered by distraction, Aria resorted to communicating mentally. _You're thinking about me... how I'm the only one who fucks you right, who holds you down and gives you what you want, what you hadn't even realized you wanted... Don't I do that for you, Madam Councilor?_

Her words sent Tevos over the edge, and Aria along with her through their connection. It might've been less fulfilling if Aria were not contributing her own experience to their meld, having waited and worked herself up substantially until that opportunity to share one with her. Their bliss hadn't even subsided before Aria was pushing Tevos onto her back and starting again through their dwindling aftershocks, patently frantic to have her in every position conceivable within just that single night, but only after delivering a second fierce thrust Tevos had braced a hand against Aria's chest and told her to stop.

Quite breathlessly, she informed Aria that she had exhausted her. "I'm done with you," she shakily said in good nature. She ached exquisitely, throbbed between her legs and softly whimpered whenever Aria touched the sensitive flesh there. When she withdrew she found herself a bit lonely and empty from not having Aria inside her anymore, stroking against places that made her fall apart, and enforcing her covetous affections. But she no longer burned with need of her, no longer doted desperately on the idea of taking Aria within her again, and instead now preferred to luxuriate in the presence of her sated libido. "Don't touch me," she added, garnering Aria's amusement when she placed her hands on her, flirting with the idea of stopping gradually rather than altogether.

"We'll see how long that lasts," Aria replied. She pulled back, reaching out to where they'd left a few clothing articles at the foot of the bed. She retrieved the racy underwear Tevos had worn that evening and tugged it back over her hips for her, though she held onto the waistband for emphatic effect while saying against her neck, "I bet in less than an hour from now you'll be pulling these down and begging me to touch you again." She slapped her backside with an open palm, eliciting a sudden hiss from Tevos, and her own retaliation of closing two fingers around the skin of Aria's shoulder in a harsh pinch.

**.**

**-][-**

**.**

"Don't fall asleep," Aria nonchalantly advised, suddenly restoring Tevos to complete awareness with a start. "I'm not particularly in the mood to perform CPR right now."

Tevos recalled her surroundings over the course of a second or two, and realized that she'd been nearly lulled to sleep by the warm water enclosing her body and soothing her tired muscles. Across from her, Aria had lifted her arms from the bath, patted them dry with a nearby towel, and was selecting with utmost discretion from a platter of hors d'oeuvres brought up by room service—an item generally meant for parties, but appropriated into their dinner. Under the dim light she ate one and followed the morsel with a sip from her glass of red wine.

The councilor pinched the bridge of her nose with a pair of fingers, inhaling deeply as she shed her drowsiness. She hadn't meant to doze off. She was merely exhausted from the eventful day and _very_ eventful evening, consistently finding her mind slipping in and out of those hazy, nonsensical thoughts of nascent dreams. And Aria was often featured in them. Visions of that brooding sneer she'd give along with an incline of her head when annoyed, in particular. The one Tevos could never take seriously despite the serious mood it conveyed. The expression only reminded Tevos of the time Aria had tripped and fallen in her living room, causing her to smile rather than afford Aria the austerity she demanded.

For a long while Tevos simply watched her drink and eat her half of the meal sitting on the stand beside the semicircular bath wedged into one corner of the bathroom, and she would occasionally accept from her pieces Aria didn't favor. Aria was rather selective, Tevos had learned. She would not go so far as to call her a fussy or picky eater, based on the fact that Aria would generally eat the vast majority of meals provided to her when alternate choices were not readily available. But when there _were_ choices, Aria always gravitated toward the seafoods and well-spiced and well-herbed dishes. She prized complexity and presentation over economy, and preferred not to consume items whose components lacked her personal perception of harmony. Even in the most mundane of circumstances, Aria perpetually sought to be impressed.

Tevos hoped she had impressed her in bed earlier. Reasonability would've assured her that she _had_ , given Aria's blatant delight with it all, but an inner voice strove for perfection and could not help but critically review her own performance. Had she kissed her right? Had she been self-assured enough? Had she held her well and indelibly seared her pleasure into her memory for years to come? Tevos would not be satisfied if she had achieved anything less. She currently wanted, above all other potential outcomes between them, for Aria to adore Tevos just as she adored her.

Needing to take the edge off her musings, Tevos retrieved her wine glass and took a long sip. Aria noticed.

"Apprehensive about tomorrow?" she asked. Although Aria had correctly identified Tevos's prevailing emotion as apprehension, she had chosen the incorrect source of it. No, Tevos had done her very best to shove that issue out of her conscience for as long as possible. Aria had unfortunately pulled it back to center-stage with her query, however.

"A bit," Tevos gave her divested reply.

"I wouldn't worry. Just think about our position here. With High Command on our side, and the Turian Hierarchy on Estulius's heels, he's got nowhere to run. If the matriarchs didn't have a plan by now they would've said something, and if they still saw Estulius as a threat to us they would be taking him out right now. Yes, in the classical sense."

Tevos was adequately convinced by the logic, but she had honed in on the language Aria had used and could not let go of her words until she better comprehended them. "Us?" she echoed in question.

Aria blinked once. "What about us?"

"You said 'us'. I didn't realize you considered yourself part of my personal predicament."

"Well, I consider myself involved when he's our common enemy. His strike against you is a strike against me, because you help me get shit done. And that's a valuable thing." Aria placed another bit of food in her mouth, as if to intentionally postpone giving any further explanation Tevos would attempt to pry from her.

At least for the moment, Tevos permitted Aria to abscond from the conversation without penalty or pursuit. She knew Aria cared for her behind the shallow explanation. It wasn't easy to apprehend _how much_ she cared, but it was evident that she did to some notable degree. She wondered why Aria was reticent about it. While Aria was the sort to downplay her private life and its affiliated emotions, she was not the sort to hide it from whom it directly concerned. Aria had historically been, albeit during interesting situations, rather frank about her feelings toward Tevos. She couldn't recall her ever denying that she liked her over the course of their affair, the evidence being that Aria would regularly defend her, carry out favors for her, console her. So why shy away from the actual state of things now?

A new point of wonder invaded her thoughts. One that chilled Tevos, defeating all the water's warmth.

Aria enjoyed her company, that much was certain. But as the Estulius problem progressively receded, diminishing their need to secretly meet and strategize with one another in the smallest hours of the night, would Aria still feel compelled to see her? In the absence of tangible, capitalistic profit, would Aria still deem Tevos's company worthwhile? Abruptly Tevos experienced the urge to dismiss her thoughts as pathetic pining, but the situation was not so simple.

She loved Aria, wanted her to occupy a very long-term position in her life even if it was destined to be a highly unconventional one. There was no shame in wondering whether Aria perhaps desired something similar, for one's selection of romantic partners deserved the same treatment and consideration as major financial decisions. Invariably they influenced one another, after all. Aria was just as much an investment as the ones Tevos and her family had made in the galactic market, with very real repercussions if gone awry.

It was extremely rational of her, wanting to know their plans early.

"Aria," she said to her. Attentive blue eyes found hers, their interest piqued at once. "May I ask you something?"

"You just did," Aria pointed out. "But if you'd like to ask me something else, I'm right here." After sending her a sly look she nudged the stand holding the platter in Tevos's direction, indicating that she'd had her fill and inviting Tevos to take whatever she pleased.

Tevos did so, briefly wiping her right hand on the towel draped over the edge of the bath before arbitrarily selecting a piece. "I confess I'm rather... curious about the future. What awaits the two of us, I mean to say. I don't know if you've given this much thought, and I wouldn't fault you if you had or hadn't, but it recently occurred to me that after we resolve our issues, there will be fewer opportunities to see one another as we do now. Unless, of course, we decide to see one another independently of business. I was hoping to hear your thoughts on this."

Aria took her wine glass into her hand and sipped from it before replying. "It's an interesting dilemma," she remarked, growing pensive as she gave it consideration. "And I have thought about it before. As for my answer, I don't have one for you right now. I'd honestly prefer waiting to see how things fare from here before making any plans. But, Tevos... I know what you're getting at. You like your schedule organized in advance, and you're not overly fond of surprises or inconvenient changes in course. All I can say right now is that I am a very busy individual and cannot be expected to devote too much time to vacationing. However... I also respect you. I respect you enough to not make any promises I might decide to break."

"Well, I do appreciate you being forward with me," said Tevos. She placed the morsel she held into her mouth. It wasn't the answer she expected, and constituted more of a non-answer than an actual one, but Tevos had been honest when communicating her gratitude toward Aria for taking measures to not be in any way deceptive. It was very decent and considerate of her, to have responded as she did. They were being remarkably professional about it all, Tevos thought, privately commending them both. No matter what they ended up deciding, there would be no bad blood between them, no misunderstandings or complications. They were measured, reasonable, and intelligent people who communicated with clarity and tact. She wasn't worried, nervous, or anxious in the slightest.

"I love you, you realize."

The words had escaped Tevos seemingly of their own volition. She hadn't even realized she had been withholding them so precariously, quietly yearning to be heard by Aria who now sat frozen across from her, still holding her glass of wine near her cheek after drinking from it. Neither moved nor spoke for a few tense seconds, until finally, Aria audibly swallowed and brought herself to set her glass aside. Her eyes flitted downward, severing her gaze from Tevos's while she composed a reply.

"You shouldn't say things like that," she said, her voice tight and distant. Again she met Tevos's eyes, looking at her with a severity confessing that Aria had known for quite a while despite her aversion to hearing it. Perhaps the difference lied between knowing and experiencing, where one was directly confronted by something previously only existing within the realm of the mind, validating its truth universally and leaving no room for a semblance of doubt or objection.

"Why?" Tevos asked. As much as she regretted her declaration, there was no retreating now. The onus was on her to elaborate, to take responsibility for the new dangerous variable she had unleashed. "Does it in any way affect what you've told me?"

Aria gave a curt exhale through her nose. "No. I just don't like unnecessarily complicating things."

"So you think it's _unnecessary?"_ Tevos repeated with a tone of disbelief. "My personal feelings are unnecessary knowledge?"

"That's not it," Aria said. "I don't appreciate people telling me things they don't mean. Especially things they don't even believe themselves."

"You don't think I meant it?"

She briefly laughed, swirling her wine glass before quickly sipping from it. "No, I don't," said Aria.

"Then tell me why not."

Aria stared at Tevos a while with a steely aspect held by her features, laboring to decipher her. As more time passed, Tevos realized that Aria was failing to devise a response and had defaulted to silence, hoping Tevos would speak again to provide her with additional information to work with.

"Actually, Aria," Tevos sighed. "Forget about what I said. I don't mean to place you in any position where you might feel obligated to respond. And maybe... maybe you're right. Maybe I don't mean it. I apologize. I won't bring it up again if you don't prefer me to."

"Tevos, listen... I try not to get tangled up in things like that. It's generally my policy. Now, I wouldn't say it alters my opinion of you, not necessarily. I just needed to inform you of certain... limitations. I don't mean you ill, Tevos. Just believe me when I say it's for the best. For us both."

"I understand," said Tevos, already wishing to be free of the topic.

"...All right," Aria quietly concluded before reclining against the wall of the bath, still carefully peering at Tevos but with less salient intent; implicitly declaring that they would speak of it no more, not when leaving their bath, not when cleaning up their food and dishes, or when they pulled on their robes and retired to bed where they lied together as if nothing at all had occurred between them.

Curiously, Aria only broke the silence when she asked Tevos through the nighttime darkness how she hoped Estulius would be embarrassed the next morning while the recording was disposed of. Tevos replied that she hoped his mic would be cut and the audio feed replaced with something humiliating. When she turned the question back onto Aria, she flatly replied, "I honestly hope he just dies."

Although Tevos knew Aria wasn't serious, she harmlessly kicked her beneath the sheets as penalty for the distasteful comment. Naturally, Aria kicked her back, but the force she employed was overestimated enough to cause Tevos moderate discomfort.

To defend herself Tevos elbowed her in the ribs, eliciting from Aria a hiss and a curse of, _"Fuck!"_ while she recoiled. In her sudden retreat, unfortunately, Aria had found the edge of the mattress, and suddenly caught herself in the middle of her descent. Despite how her feet stumbled onto the floor and her hands clung to the sheets to immediately brake her fall, Tevos was already laughing at her, filing the sight away in her memory forever.

But Aria was soon on her feet again, swiftly and resourcefully seeking vengeance as she pulled open the refrigerator's freezer unit, fished a hand into the deposit of ice, and returned to the bed. Tevos began scrambling away the instant she saw her, protesting, "Oh no—Wait, hold on... That's not... Oh no."

Unfortunately, Tevos was too slow to escape the hand that grabbed ahold of her collar and dropped several cubes of ice down her back, pulling an unbecoming cry of panicked surprise from her lips as she abruptly twisted in revolt, struggling uselessly against the way Aria restrained her from shaking the ice from her clothes while laughing at her expense the entire time.


End file.
